Can You Make Me Feel?
by Angel1876
Summary: She can't feel emotion, a fact that Jeff the killer refuses to believe. What happens when an unstoppable force goes head to head with the immovable object? Rated for violence. Based on the CreepyPasta of Jeff The Killer.
1. Emotionless

_**AN: This story is based on the Jeff The Killer creepypasta stories, which can be found by searching Google.**  
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* * *

_Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick..._

Her mother read was talking to one of their neighbors, a family friend that seemed to be there more than at her own house. They were in a not-quite-an-argument about football. It was a rather uninteresting conversation, really, over which team they wanted to win and why their own choice was better. It was odd, the young girl thought to herself, that they chose that particular topic. Why? What motivated them? They could be talking about the latest movie, the new Professor Layton game, any number of things they both were interested in. Why, out of all the subjects they shared in common, did they pick that?

Two young children, brother and sister, played with some toys on the floor. They giggled and rolled around with the energy only little kids had. Their actions were a little less confusing. They don't put thought behind the things they do, they just act. They had no rhyme or reason, like, like an animal. Give it a treat and it's happy. Swat at it and it's sad. Predictable. Boring.

Not that many things excited her, for obvious reasons.

She heard the birds chirp outside, the TV her father was watching upstairs. He liked it loud. It was some sort of action movie, from what she could tell, full of explosions and such. Another thing that tugged at her mind, if she let it. Why did they chose to have a happy ending to a story? A sad ending? What were they thinking? What were they...feeling?

A soft exhale of breath escaped her lungs as she turned the page of her book, the hero screaming as he watched a dear friend murdered in front of him. The words she read described fear, anger, sorrow, pain, and even hate. The man swore revenge, and she tilted her head a little, pausing to reread the scene. So many emotions from that single event.

A car passed them outside, the boy accidently pushed his little sister down, making her cry. The two women rushed to her to comfort her and scold him, the TV upstairs sounded the alarm of a police car.

And all the while, underneath the chaos, sounded the soft, organized, _tick, tick, tick._

Everything, she was aware of every noise, every creek, every work spoken. The movie upstairs ended, and her father got up and opened the window. He was likely going to bed, so he could get up bright and early for work. Their neighbor took the children and left for her own house, and her mother drew close. The girl felt the older woman's eyes on the back of her head, though she did nothing. She waited, knowing that it was expected for her not to notice. Finally, after about fifty ticks, she put a hand on her shoulder, and only then did she respond.

"Oh, hi mom." she said as she looked up from the book, as if she had no idea that she'd been watched for almost a full minute, "Is it time for bed?"

"Yes honey. I'm going upstairs, so you can turn everything off down here, okay?"

"Yes, mom." she closed her book, not bothering to use her bookmark. There was no need. She knew the page number, the paragraph, the sentence she'd left off on. It was easy enough to find later, when it was time to read again.

She began to pick up the toys and put them away, in the box in the corner of the room. They didn't belong to anyone in the house, rather, they belonged to the two siblings that spent most of their waking time there. As she moved, she heard her mothers footsteps, the click of the closing door, the shifting of the floorboards. She turned the light off, waited patently for her eyes to adjust, and started down the hall.

She passed the stare case and entered the small, plain, neat bedroom. She undressed, and put her nightgown on. As she pulled the thin, off white material over her head...she saw something dart past her open window. That was odd. Her window faced the backyard, so even were it day there shouldn't be anyone out there. She pulled open the window and stuck her head out, the fact that she'd already been in the dark for several minutes made it much easier to see everything. Unkempt, invaded by weeds, but nothing out of the ordinary caught her eye. No strange movement or sound, nothing.

And then she heard the boards shift above her. Only then did she think to look up, at the tree that grew close to the house. If someone wanted to, they could have easily climbed up it into her parents room. No sooner had she thought that she heard a high pinched scream. Her mother. It started out sheer and fearful, before deepening in pain and ending in a gurgle. There was a dull thud, and then silence once more. Curiosity sparked in her mind, had someone broken in? Had an animal? Whatever it was had silenced the woman pretty quickly.

She left her room and started up the stares, well aware most people would be fearful by then. Normal people would call the police, panic, perhaps run out of the house. This course of action was far from normal, and quite possibly dangerous. Quite possibly deadly.

When she reached the top of the stare case, she opened the door without bothering to knock. Unsatisfied with the shadows in the room, she flicked on the light, willingly giving up her night vision.

Her father lay on the floor, still twitching, just barely alive, deep crimson blood coating his body, pooling on the floor. His throat had been cut open, the wound open and raw and deep. Her mother lay on the bed, her eyes wide and open, her stomach torn. The young woman drew closer to her, enough to see that several organs had been removed and lay next to her on the covers. She'd never seen anything like this, it was...fascinating. So this is what a person looked like from the inside. She glanced back at her father, his movement ceasing completely. He too was dead.

She leaned over the corpse of her mother, her hand reaching forward to lightly run over the edges of the gaping hole. Whoever did this was skilled, to do this much damage in such a short amount of time. It couldn't have been an animal, she decided. After a moment, she picked up one of the organs, distantly wondering what it was.

"Having fun?" asked a raspy voice behind her, causing her to drop the hunk of meat, turn and fold her hands neatly behind her back. They were dirty now, coated in red, and most people didn't want others to see them in any state that was less than their best, right? The man that stood there, looking at her, he was...well, horrifying would be a good description for it.

His skin was white, pure white, like freshly fallen snow. His cheeks had been cut open at some point, leaving behind scars that formed a twisted smile that would never go away. Darkness circled his eyes, bloodshot and dry, the orbs suffering from the absence of lids to keep them moist. They seemed infected, and she wondered just how well he could see at this point. Had the light she turned on caused him pain?

"Not fun, no." she answered, "I think the correct term would be...morbidly curious? I never knew the human body looked like this from the inside. Mother and father were always into action and sports, never had an interest in health shows. Ah, where are my manors? You're a guest here. Do you want anything to drink?"

His head tilted a little, and she let her gaze travel downwards, observing him. He wore a white hoodie, stained with blood. Well, since he didn't seem to mind much, she brought her hands back from behind her and folded them over her chest. In his right hand he held a knife, glistening in crimson. He spoke, and she refocused on his unblinking eyes, "No screaming? Fighting? You aren't even going to run?"

"Run?" she echoed, almost asking why, then remembering that this man was a murderer and was likely to come after her next, "I suppose I should. You defiantly aren't safe to be around. How would you kill me? Slice my throat? Disembodiment? I read a story once where a character had his heart ripped out and stuffed down his throat. Though, you'd have to be fast, to be able to finish before I die."

He laughed, the sound ragged, rough, and frightening too, she would think. "What?" she asked, confused.

"You're fucking screwing with me. Are you seriously giving me ideas on how to kill you?" he finally asked, slightly breathless.

"Fuck is an impolite word." she said automatically, and then understanding flared to life, "Ah...I see. You don't know. Of course you don't know. I'm sorry, how rude. Forgive me?" she pulled her mouth back, smiling. Another strange thing people did. Showing teeth, in most animals, was a sign of aggression. So why was it seen as a friendly gesture in humans?

This seemed to annoy him more than anything, "I don't know _what?_" he stepped forward, his knife raising a little. A threat to make her answer faster? Or simply an anger issue he could not control?

"When I was little I never cried." she explained quickly, "I never laughed, and only screamed once, when I broke my arm falling down the stares. Mother and father were used to it, I was always quiet as a baby. But after a few years, and still no...no anything of what a little girl should be, they took me to the hospital. Doctors did a scan of my brain, and something was wrong. The part that gives people emotion was never fully developed, so...I don't react to stimuli the way most people would. In fact..." she paused for a moment, thinking, then continued, "I should be afraid of you. I should be angry, and saddened about this. But I'm not, nor will I ever be."

She sighed, a hand going up to move some hair from her face, "I can only imagine the...ah, the disappointment they felt. Their only daughter can't even love them back. But it doesn't matter anymore, does it?" she smiled again, "So, my name's Abigail. Most call me Abby. What's your name?"

He just stared at her, silent for a long minute. She waited, patent, and gave herself a personal challenge to pass the time. Look into his eyes and see who breaks contact first. He couldn't close them, so he had the obvious advantage. Water started to gather, trying to ward away the dryness, before he answered.

"You can't feel _anything?_" again he stepped closer, something flashing in his gaze, "Hate? Fear? Doubt? Regret? _Nothing?_" his words grew harsher, almost growling the last one.

"Nothing." she said simply, "This upsets you. Why? Why do you kill? How does it make you feel?" she asked, taking a step toward him herself, truly interested. He was an interesting one, the first murderer she'd ever met. Likely the last.

"I'm not upset," he said, placing the knife at her throat, putting enough pressure on it to cause a little pain, "I'm just waiting for your little mask to slip."

"You don't believe me? How do you explain my lack of the fight or flight response?"

"Maybe you're just stupid."

"Maybe I'm telling the truth."

"Maybe-" he grew silent, and she listened quietly, trying to catch whatever it was he'd heard. Police sirens, far in the distance. Someone heard the scream, she guessed. He chuckled darkly, "Since you seem to like organs so much," he said slyly, "Why don't you let me show you something interesting?"


	2. Let's Play a Game

The girl followed him back down the stares, still pretending that she wasn't bothered by the gory scene he'd left in the bedroom. Did she really think he'd believe that she felt nothing? How convenient, to have a killer in the house and be unable to fear him. He didn't buy it, and he would break her before he killed her. He didn't like being lied to in the least.

The feeling, the burning tug in the back of his mind had grown worse over the years. Now he could barely go a full twenty four hours without slicing someone open. Even after the death of the couple, he found himself needing to rip apart the approaching police. He'd make her watch, see if she were still so confident afterwards.

The two reached the bottom of the stare case, and she held back, letting him go first. He did, though he kept an eye on her to be sure she didn't run off. The knock came, and the call of 'police! Open up!' came. He opened the door, and waited the split second for the officer to realize what he was looking at. He screamed and Jeff lunged, plunging the knife into the man's stomach and dragging it upwards. His cried melted to a wet gurgle, and he let the body fall to the ground. His partner pulled a gun and fired, the bullet grazing the killers arm. He knocked the weapon out of the cops hand and buried his blade hilt deep into his throat. "Go to sleep." he said, watching the light leave his eyes.

Now that both of them were dead, he knelt next to the first one he'd killed and used the knife to widen the wound. Once it was big enough, he reached inside, going elbow deep into the body. He found what he was looking for, gripped it, and tore it out.

He walked away from the corpses and presented the bleeding heart to the woman, watching her face closely for any reaction. She tilted her head, considering it for a moment, before taking the organ from him. She turned it over in her hands, and he found himself getting angry at her. What was she trying to do? Throw him off so he wouldn't kill her?

Fat chance.

"Interesting. I thought it'd be bigger." she remarked in that annoying monotone voice of hers. She squeezed it, making it pulse as if it were still bleeding. His grip on his knife tightened, his desire to see her life fade increasing the more she seemed completely unbothered by the idea. "Okay, I have an idea. Since you lost the game, I think-"

"Game?"

"Yes. I bet myself that I could keep my eyes on yours longer than you could keep yours on mine. You can't blink, so I thought it'd be harder than it was. But then you looked away when you left the room. Anyway, I want to play a new game." she smiled at him, if you could call it that. It didn't reach her eyes, giving off the impression she was baring her teeth, like a dog, rather than smiling. He almost laughed at that, thinking that even his own smile was more sincere than hers. His was much more fitting, his was beautiful. Did she think so? She hadn't screamed at the sight of him. Most people did.

"Catch me if you can." she said suddenly, and threw the heart at him, hitting his face. Before he could recover, she took off, running through the hall, into the kitchen, and out the sliding glass door that led into the back yard.

"Fuck!" he swore violently and ran after her. He got outside just in time to see her climbing over the fence. He rushed to it and heaved himself over, his eyes catching her rounding the corner. He chased after, never completely losing sight of her but not seeming to be getting any closer, either. There was no way she could keep up forever, after all.

Until, while she darted down the street, she came across an unlucky woman walking down the road. She grabbed her and shoved her toward him, her body stumbling onto him and forcing him to stop or fall over. The heavy stench of alcohol invaded his nose, and he stabbed her in disgust. She screamed, but the sound was cut off as she vomited violently. Obviously, she'd drank way too much, bloody, frothy liquid pouring out of both her mouth and the wound in her belly. He stabbed her again, this time in the chest, and leaned in close to her ear. "Just go to sleep." he whispered lowly. She shivered once, then lay still.

Those short moments cost him, for when he went to find his prey, he couldn't locate her.

Half the night he searched, and Abigail was no where to be found.

* * *

Three days passed, and ten people fell at Jeff's hand. He saw no sign of the woman who'd escaped him, and he hated her for it. He fumed quietly as he walked into a bar, needing another victim. He ordered a beer, the waitress smiled and nodded, calling him honey in a sickly sweet voice. He pulled his hood tighter around his head, hiding his scarred grin from her.

Moments later he had his drink and he gazed around at the people around him. Decisions, decisions. He took a sip of the bitter liquid, for lack of a better thing to do while he considered who to attack next.

Someone sat in the chair opposite him, he looked up and found her eyes gazing into his. "Hello," she greeted pleasantly.

"What..._the hell_...is wrong with you?" he snarled darkly, the frustration from the past few days flaring up. His fingers curled around the knife in his pocket, tightening until it cut his skin.

"I told you already." Abigail said. She was filthy, he noted. She wore simple jeans and a shirt, but they were coated with dirt and muck. There were a couple leaves in his hair, and he thought he saw a bug peak out from her hairline, then scurry back in. "Anyway, there's no...enjoyment, for either of us in the game if you don't come after me. And you can't do that if you don't know where I am. I thought I lost you, so when I saw you come in here I thought I should come say hi, in case I couldn't find you again. I'm thinking I shouldn't run so far next time."

"Enjoyment? Are you saying this is meant to be fun?"

"Yes. At least, for you. For me, it's more amusement than anything else. My parents are dead, the book I'm reading has grown stale, and I have absolutely nothing better to do. Besides, you're one of the most interesting people I've ever met, to be honest. Will you tell me your name? You never said before, when I asked."

"...Jeff."

"Jeff. Nice name." she said, leaning her chin on her intertwined fingers, "Do you hate me?" when he didn't answer, she went on, "I guess I can't blame you. I bet you find me incredibly annoying. Why? Because I don't do what your victims normally do? Because of my game, that you never agreed to play? Think of it this way, imagine how grate my blood will feel as it drains from my body onto yours. The taste, the smell, all of it earned. Because if you win, that's what you get."

"And if I lose?" he asked, his grip tightening on his knife, the blade cutting deeper into him.

"You won't lose."

He moved to mirror her position, his elbows on the table, his head balanced on his intertwined fingers. Blood dripped from the wound he'd caused, and he made no attempt to hide it from her. This also gave her a good view of the widespread grin carved into his cheeks, while still hiding it from the rest of the bar, "Are you so eager for sleep, then? If you're tired, there are easier ways to find rest."

A noise came from her throat. It was like a laugh, but it was wrong, devoid of humor or even malice. "I said you'd win. I didn't say it'd be easy for you."

With that she stood, "Well, you seem to be pretty busy now. There's an empty house about three blocks away, in that direction." she motioned toward the back of the bar, "It has a burn on one wall, and a shattered window. Can't miss it. Come play when you're done, okay?"

He didn't answer, which she apparently took for a yes because she walked out without another word. Jeff growled quietly to himself, thinking that he should just ignore her, torture her with boredom, from which she seemed to seek escape.

But the tugging in his head was getting stronger, and that picture she painted for him was so very appealing...a low chuckle came from him. She wanted to play?

He was ready to play.


	3. Fun

Abigail waited in the empty house, her eyes closed, listening to every creek of the settling wood. She really was lucky to have found him again, for a while she'd thought she'd never see the man again. Of course, it was now in his hands, whether or not she met him a third time or not. She thought he wouldn't be able to resist seeking her out now that she'd presented her challenge to him. Not that she could be absolutely sure, of course. Most people were unpredictable to her, except for children, and he was so much more so simply because of what he was. What drove him to kill? Along the same lines, what drove anyone to kill, and others not to? Why did different people react differently to stimuli? What did it feel like...to feel?

She never met a murderer before. Was Jeff's rage harsher than that of normal people, or did he lack control? Was there something extra in his brain, or something missing? And if so, what was it, exactly? Why did he do these things?

Why did he kill her parents?

She exhaled deeply at this thought. She...mourned them, for lack of a better word. She wasn't sad, or even angry. But, if it were a choice, if she had to choose between playing this game with Jeff or sitting with her parents, reading a book, she would have chosen the later. But she couldn't, anymore. She supposed she could move in with her neighbor, but no. It was the kids. She didn't want to be around them, their animalistic nature bore her to no end. Before, she could focus on the other people in the room. Now she'd have only the one woman. So, choosing between the old family friend, and Jeff? Again, she'd pick the latter. Which, she mused, she already had. She couldn't go there now, and risk leading the psychotic man to them.

She opened her eyes to gaze about her surroundings. The house was mostly empty, with only an old, moldy couch, and a table in the kitchen. She'd been staying there since she'd escaped what was likely to be her death. It was a disgusting place, compared to where she used to live. More than once she found rats scurrying along the floor, or roaches crawling on the walls. That meant it had to have been abandoned recently, as there would only be pests if there was food, which there wasn't anymore. In time, they too would leave.

As the minutes crept by, she distracted herself with picking bits of dirt from her shirt. She'd been forced to steal, a fact that her mother and father would have disliked immensely, but that didn't matter anymore, did it?

She stilled as a soft creak reached her ears. The house, or the sound of someone in it? The floorboards were so much louder there than at her old home, she wasn't quite sure...

_Creak..._

She pulled her lips back as she concluded that there was no way it was just the wood settling. Someone was there with her, most likely her new friend.

Friend? Now, that was a thought.

Abby looked left, at the door leading out of the house. Then right, to the one that led to the kitchen. Straight a head led to two bedrooms and a large bathroom. Jeff could have entered from any room, either through the sliding glass door or a window. Surely, the safest thing for her to do would be to go left, and leave. But then the game wouldn't be a challenge, would it?

She decided to go forward, to the bedrooms, seeing as there was less room to move around than in the kitchen. She reached the hallway without any trouble, and proceeded to press her back to one wall. A moment passed, in which she looked both ways to make sure he wasn't there. It was dark, and her were well adjusted, something that should give her an advantage of sorts. There were street lamps outside, and she didn't think he could get inside without looking at them.

Slowly, she inched her way toward the closest room, the bathroom. When she got there she quietly opened it, wide enough so that it pressed against the wall, proving the man wasn't hiding behind it. No one was there, so she continued to the first bedroom. Again, nothing. The hard part was going to be the last room, as it contained a large closet, big enough for someone to fit in. She made it to the bigger bedroom without being gutted, which she mentally noted as a personal victory. She approached the closet, ready to flee should Jeff be behind it. She opened it slowly, quietly, and found it completely empty.

Okay, maybe he really was in the kitchen. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, turning back, and made her way back through the hallway. No one there that she could see, so he must be through that last door.

Again, she found herself proven wrong. He wasn't in the kitchen either. She stood there for a moment, confused. He had to be there, she heard him.

She felt a cold sharpness at her throat, and then a warm softness at her shoulder, "Looking for me?" Jeff asked, his words brushing her the top of her head. How did he manage to get behind her?

She suddenly shifted her weight so she was leaning back into him, and quickly reached her hand up, shoving her fingers between her throat and the blade. Pain registered as the knife dug into her skin, liquid heat oozing out. She noted that it was...funny? Ironic? Strange? Ah, an unexpected coincidence...that the wound was in the same place as his, from when he'd cut himself in the bar.

She had to get away from him, get away before he could win. She lifted her foot and stomped hard on his, only getting a soft grunt in return. When that didn't work she reached back with her free hand, slipping it under his shirt to burry her nails into his stomach. His other hand grabbed onto her wrist, twisting it harshly. With no other choice, she pushed on the weapon, making it slice deeper into her fingers. This was going to hurt, her body was liable to react strongly...She took a quick breath, held it, turned her head to one side and dropped to the ground. Part of the knife that wasn't grinding against bone tore skin from her face, from her chin, to her temple. There was a sickening crack as her wrist was either broken or dislocated in his vice like grip. An involuntary yelp came from her throat, as she twisted around to face him and pulled, pain stabbing up her arm as she yanked herself free.

He stood there, laughing darkly as she scrambled backwards toward the sliding glass door. "Aren't you having fun yet?" he asked, his unblinking eyes locked on hers, "This was all your idea, remember?"

She bared her teeth at him, and let out an erratic sound that was meant to copy his cackle. She didn't do it right, she knew, but it was the best she could offer. "Did I say I had any regrets?" she shakily asked. Her back hit the cool glass of the sliding glass door, her left hand so numb and prickly that she couldn't use it to unlatch the lock. Already he was coming closer, his knife dripping with her blood, she didn't have time to turn and unlock it with her good hand. Again, she was left with one option, somehow get past him and escape out one of the other exits. She began to sidestep, trying to circle around him.

"Oh, no you don't." he said, sidestepping as well, keeping himself between her and freedom. "You aren't going anywhere."

"Aren't I?" she asked, going the other way, again being cut off. He was closer now, just out of reach. An idea occurred to her, and she lowered her arms, which had been crossed over her chest. She had to time this just right...

He laughed, taking this as her giving up, "Aw, I'm disappointed in you. I thought you'd last a little longer. But now, I think it's time for you to go to sleep..." at this he closed the distance between them, his knife plunging toward her just as she brought her knee up. Both of them hit their mark, his blade plunged into ribs as her knee shoved in between his legs. A startled sound came from the man, his grip on the weapon loosening just enough that she could pull it away from him.

As quickly as she could she darted toward the door, turning back just long enough to say, "Seems I need to call a time out, got an appointment with a doctor. If you can't find me, check back here. I'll be back as soon as I can. Besides, you'll want your knife back, right?" she gestured toward the weapon, still inside her. An angry growl answered her as he looked up at her, doubled over but not on the floor as she would have expected of most men. She ran out of the house, not giving him enough time to recover properly.


	4. Sleeping

_That...fucking...bitch!_

Jeff watched her leave, flashing him one of those annoying fake smiles before running, stumbling slightly, out the door. His limbs shook in both anger and pain as he tried to recover from the blow she'd dealt. The feeling practically screamed in his head, and though he'd just recently gutted a couple he'd found in the bar, he felt the need to draw blood rise again. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, the burning between his legs faded, and he pulled himself back into an upright position. His hands curled into fists at his sides as he silently fumed at her.

It wasn't the knee to the groin that upset him, as part of him liked pain, even when it was he whom was suffering. No, what set his blood to boiling was the fact that this was the second time she'd gotten away from him. Not to mention the fact she stole his knife. His _knife._..did she really think he was just going to wait there for her to come back? No, oh _no..._

The closest emergency room wasn't too for away, maybe a mile or two. Whether she walked, or called the paramedics, that was the most likely place she'd end up. And that was where he was headed.

About a half hour later or so, he walked through the glass doors into the waiting room. He had his hood up again, hiding his face from anyone who looking at him from the sides. Not that it mattered, most of the people seated barely noticed him, so focused they were on the forms they were writeing, their sick spouse or child. His fingers twitched, knowing it would have been so easy to tear one of them apart. Even with his bare hands he could probably kill a good number of them before they escaped.

He stood in front of the desk and leaned his arms on it, patently waiting for the woman behind it to get done with her papers and look up. Finally, after a good minute, she did, and let out a half scream of shock. With a hand over her heart, she tried to collect herself, "Oh my, what happened to you? I'll get you a gurney right away-"

"I don't need treatment." he said, stopping her in her tracks before she could get up, "I'm here looking for a friend of mine. Abby? Abigail? She was attacked, came to see if she was alright. Can I see her?"

She frowned, obviously wanting to ignore him and get him a doctor anyway. "...I want to see her." he pressed, then added an awkward, "_...please._"

Her frown only seemed to deepen, but she conceded. She grabbed a file out from under the desk, and flipped through it. "Abigail Addams?" she asked, looking from the paper back up to him.

He nodded. Truthfully, he had no idea what-so-ever what the girl's last name was. He was just guessing. Besides, how many Abigail's could there be in one ER?

"She's in surgery right now." she said, looking back down, "She was stabbed. I'm not going to lie, she's in pretty bad shape, but she should survive. They're trying to stop the bleeding and sew her up. Also, her wrist was dislocated. What happened?"

He would have scowled at her, if he could have. He didn't need to answer these questions, all he wanted to know was where her room was. He almost told the woman that, but he managed to keep quiet. As calmly as he could, he answered, "I don't know. There was a man, he ran off and I chased after him. When I came back, she was gone, so I thought..."

"Do you know what he looked like?"

His patience was wearing thin. "It's dark outside, I didn't see his face."

"Ah..." after a moment she put the file away, "You a friend of hers, you said? What's your name?"

Just reach across the desk, grab her throat and rip it out, demanded the feeling, and he moved his hands back behind him. He found the still opened wounds on his fingers and dug his nails into them, forcing them wider open, making them bleed again. He ground his teeth together for a moment, the sound loud to his ears. "I'm Jeff."

"Okay, Jeff. Go sit down. When she gets out of surgery, you can go see her."

He made a low noise of acknowledgement and went over to one of the chairs, closing one as far from the other people as possible. Angrily, he picked and tore at his skin to the point the blood dripped down freely onto his pants. That was it, he couldn't stand it any longer...when someone got up to use the restroom, a young man, about twenty by the look of it, Jeff followed. He didn't even have enough time to scream.

Jeff left him in one of the stalls, locking it from the inside and crawling back out underneath the door. The fresh blood on his hoodie didn't matter much, it was already stained when he'd walked in. No one would notice. With the feeling temporarily calmed, he returned to his seat, and waited.

About an hour passed until he was finally called back up to the desk. No one had noticed the body in the bathroom yet, and the man had been alone so no one went looking for him. Not even the nurse that called his name, she just skipped onto the next person, thinking he'd left. The woman at the desk smiled brightly at him, "She's out, and she's going to be perfectly fine. She's in room 409, if you want to go see her. She's still under sedatives, so she'll be a bit tired, might sleep through your visit."

"I don't mind." he said, quickly retreating through the door before she could change her mind. He passed up the elevator and started up the stares, all the way up to the fourth floor.

He found her room, and as the other woman had predicted, she was sound asleep. He approached her bed, looking down at her almost completely motionless form. Her chest was the only sign of life, rising and falling with each breath. They were alone. The soft, continuous _beep beep beep_ sounded in the background, annoying, but for the most part ignorable.

Her wrist was in a brace, he noted with a flare of amusement, and he was tempted to take it off and dislocate the joint again, just to see her reaction. Now that he had her alone he couldn't stop thinking about all the things he could do to end her. Well, not completely alone, considering there was only a curtain separating them and the other patent in the room. It didn't matter, he could do any number of things to her now. Strangle her, find a needle and inject air into her veins, grab that iv and squeeze it, forcing all the liquid into her at once. He remembered the last time he did that and laughed quietly at the memory.

"Abby." he said, waiting for her to open her eyes and see the fear flash through them. But she didn't move. He shook her shoulder roughly, "Abby! Abigail! Abby Addams! Wake up!" nothing. "Fuck..." he cursed darkly.

He _could_ kill her, but he wouldn't get the satisfaction of watching her realize she'd lost. And also, he wanted to use his knife. He wanted her to scream, and bleed, and be aware of everything that was happening. Where was his knife?

He glanced behind him at the door, making sure no one was there, and leaned over her. He pulled her blanket down, and her hospital gown up. He'd hoped the motion would rouse her, but she didn't move. He pulled the bandages off and admired the stitches that tied the wound he'd made shut. Lightly, he traced the raw looking flesh, dampening it with his own blood, the wound on his hand still oozing the liquid. He scratched her hard, careful not to cause more damage just yet but trying to cause pain. Again, she didn't respond. He growled in displeasure. Fine, that decided it. If she wasn't awake enough to be sent to sleep, he'd go find someone else to play with. Besides,_ someone_ had to know where his favorite weapon was...


	5. Vigamox

Abby felt numb. That was the first thing she noticed. The second thing she noticed was the long, continuous drone that sounded under a louder beep, beep, beep. Distantly, she identified the sound as a heart monitor. Normal, she knew, as she remembered she was in a hospital. Though, she couldn't think of why there was a long beep sounding with the shorter ones. Was someone in trouble? Why weren't any of the doctors helping? A flat line was something to be avoided, right?

It was that sound that interested her enough to rouse her from her sleep. She opened her eyes slowly, the white ceiling coming into view. As soon as the brightness seared into her vision, dizziness flooded though her. What did they give her? Why did everything have to spin...?

For a moment the woman considered just going back to sleep. Her body needed it, the sedatives obviously still in her system demanded it, but she couldn't shake her curiosity about the flat line. So she prepared herself with a deep breath, and forced her muscles to pull her up into a sitting position. The world around her flared and twisted violently, and her empty stomach turned in response. With a low moan, she let herself lay back down, her eyes closing again as the room tried to right itself. Okay, she couldn't move. Though she did gather some information, at least. Her gown was pulled up, her bandages weren't covering her wound, and there was drying blood coating it. This was not something any doctor would do if they wanted to keep their job. And no one had yet come to check her room mate out, so...they had to be doing something else.

Had Jeff followed her? No, she'd been careful, made sure no one was behind her. Unless he guessed where she'd gone? And who else would touch her while she lay unconscious? But, wouldn't he have taken the opportunity to kill her while she slept?

Another thing she noticed was there was an iv in her arm. An iv that was likely dripping both anti biotics and painkillers, the later of which could be dangerous. If Jeff was indeed there, she did not want to be in this state. So as carefully as she could she took a hold of the needle and slid it out of the vein.

And then she waited.

Slowly, the dizziness began to fade, though the sleepiness did not. She found herself having to flex her arms or legs just to stay awake. Doing this, she found a brace on her wrist, keeping it still so it could heal. It'd only been dislocated, but she was still supposed to wear it for a couple weeks. Finally, after what must have been ten or fifteen minutes of waiting patently, she tried again to get up. The room spun, but not nearly as badly as it had before. She disconnected the heart monitor, brushed the hair back from her face and got unsteadily out of bed. When she felt able to walk, she moved past the curtain and finally saw the cause of the beep.

The man was dead, his throat ripped from his body. It lay next to him on the bed, in a small pool of blood. This confirmed it for her, Jeff had deffenantly been there. And he obviously didn't need his knife to kill.

She left the room at a slow pace, using the wall for support as she started down the hall. As she went she found several more people, male and female, doctors and patents, all murdered. Some had apparently had their heads bashed against the wall, some had broken necks, and some had their throats torn out like her unlucky roommate.

In every room she wandered into, there were dead people. If anyone survived, she didn't see them. Understandable, they would have run, or gone off to hide somewhere. She tripped over a body and fell to the ground, her muscles crying out for her to stay there. But she couldn't, she'd lose. She expected she'd lose anyway, but that wasn't the point. The point was that she was not going to make it easy for him to win. What's the point in playing a game if it's over too quickly? Besides, she wanted to learn about him. Maybe, just maybe, he could help her understand why people did the things they do.

She pulled herself up again and leaned against the wall, breathing heavily. This was a hospital, there should be something around that would help her wake up, help her to recover from the things they'd put into her. She couldn't feel the pain from her wounds, which meant that though she was awake she could go under if she didn't watch herself. Maybe she could find some adrenaline, or something.

Still unable to move at a normal walking pace, she managed to continue down the hall. It didn't take too long until she found a staff only room, unlocked, with a corpse inside. This one had been sliced open with a blade, and the fifteen or so scalpels that had been scattered over the floor suggested the weapon had been taken from that very room. Forgoing anything she might have used to defend herself, she began to go through the drawers, looking through the various drugs they had. After several minutes of looking, she found some epinephrine shots. She injected some immediately, tossing it to the floor when she was done. That should help.

On a whim, she began to search through the rest of the stock. She found some vigamox, and after carefully reading the directions and the warnings on the box, she decided it should work. She wasn't a doctor, had never heard of the name, but it was the best she could do given the situation. She took the box with her and, feeling much better, left the room. She focused on the nurse that lay just outside the door. She was a bit bigger than herself, but not too much. The blood soaked into the clothes, but otherwise they were okay. She pulled them off the body and put them on herself, replacing the outfit with her gown. It was a poor exchange, but she couldn't walk out of the building unless she was properly dressed. She'd get arrested.

Ah, there it was, the pain. It was distant, a soft twinge with every movement, but it would get worse. At least she could move properly, and she didn't feel like she was going to drop into unconsciousness any second. She put the vigamox into a pocket and started for the elevator, not yet trusting herself with the stares. She pressed the button for the ground floor, and waited as the small box began to descend. As she neared the bottom, she heard faint sounds of screaming, and panic. She pressed herself to the inner wall, peering out while trying not to be seen.

There he was, standing on the desk. He had the woman who'd signed her in hours before pinned to the cold stone surface by her neck, and was stabbing her over and over with his knife. Blood squirted from the wound every few seconds, until the damage finally became too much and her struggles began to slow. Only then did he stop, "Shh," he crooned as she whimpered, "Just go to sleep." after only a few more seconds, the woman went still.

Abigail steeped out of the elevator and bared her teeth for him, "Hey, Jeff."

The man hopped off the desk and faced her, "Well, someone_ finally_ woke up. I've been busy. Thanks to you, I had to go all over the place to find this." he waved his knife a little, "They were going to send it to the police for evidence. The _police_, Abby Addams. You wouldn't have been able to get it back to me."

Abby Addams? How did he...? Ah, they must have told him at some point. "Oh. I didn't think of that. Apologies."

He laughed, "You're sorry? Do you have _any idea_ the shit I've had to go through to get it back?"

"I thought you liked killing." she tilted her head slightly, watching him. Shouldn't this make him happy?

"I don't like running around, trying to get my things back because you couldn't just leave it when you ran off."

"It could have hit a vein. If I pulled it out I might have lost by default. You don't want to find me already dead before you get a chance to kill me properly do you?"

He folded his arms over his chest, and she was sure if he had eyelids he'd have been glaring at her. "Why do you want to play this game? You say you feel nothing, so what's the reason?"

She let her lips close, no longer trying to smile at him. "I want to know what it's like. Since I can't feel emotion, and I never will, I can only observe. I watch others, but I never learned much. No two people respond the same. Why? Why do they act act differently? Why do some people like one thing while others don't? Why do some people cry when they're sad and others just get really quiet? Does each person feel things differently? Or do some have an easier time handling it than others? Why do people do what they do, what are the reasons? The answer is tied into emotions, I'm sure. Their actions change depending on what they feel. You murder. I've never had a chance to learn from someone like you, so maybe I'll find out something I never knew before. Maybe everything will make sense. And if not, maybe I can learn of anger, at the very least."

"I don't kill out of anger." he said quietly, his head tilting slightly to mirror hers.

"Then why do you?"

"I can't control it if I don't."

The two of them stared at each other, the silence stretching out into a long moment, until the faint sound of sirens came from the distance. "Ah, we got to get out of here." she said, "I don't think the police will be too happy with us." without waiting for and answer, she ran to the door, exiting the building. The first rays of sunrise peaked out in the distance. A quick glance behind her told her he was following, so she mentally planned the best course back to the abandoned building. It'd be a good place for Jeff to hide, but only if they didn't get caught getting there.

By the time she darted through the door her heart was hammering hard in her chest, and her head was starting to spin again. The dose of epinephrine she'd given herself was wearing off, and her body had been pushed way too far to be able to move much longer. She stumbled over to the wall opposite the door and leaned back against it, watching Jeff walk through and close it behind him.

She exhaled and closed her eyes, feeling them burn. She forced them back open after a moment, knowing that the killer would take advantage of it. He was just standing there, looking at her. Was he as tired as she was? The way his face had been scarred, there was no way of knowing by expression alone. But he had to have had as long a night as her, even if he hadn't gone through surgery.

Ah, the vigamox. She pulled it out of her pocket and tossed it at him, "Catch." she warned. He grabbed it from the air and stared at it for a moment.

"What's this?" he asked.

"Vigamox. For eye infections." she said, now fighting to remain upright. "You use the dropper to put a some in each eye every few hours. I thought you might need it, before your infection makes you blind."

Again, it went silent as he examined the box with what she thought was skepticism. He opened it and looked at the bottle, turning it around in his hand. He let out an exhale of breath, and she wasn't sure what caused it. Annoyance? Did this upset him?

After almost a full minute of fully expecting him to toss it away, he opened the bottle and put the medicine in each eye. "I don't know why you did this." he said slowly, "But..." he put the bottle back inside and set the box on the floor, along with his knife, "Thanks." he finished, though it sounded...odd to her. He wasn't used to being given things, she guessed.

Why did he but his knife down? Wasn't he going to kill her now she wasn't strong enough to run anymore? He caught the confused look she was giving him, and answered it with a shrug, "It's daytime. I've been up all night. I just spent the past several hours constantly on the move."

He pulled out a small washcloth and headed for the bathroom. She heard the water run for a few seconds, and he was back. He sat on the floor, and looked over at her, "Rest. We're taking a break."

_What...? Why would he...?_

Not giving her a chance to argue, he lay down on his back and draped the wet cloth over his eyes. He'd successfully shocked her more than she had ever been. People were normally unpredictable, but he'd just done the complete and exact opposite of what he should have done.

Her limbs shook softly, and she found herself sinking to the floor. She practically fell over onto one side, pain flaring as the cold floor pressed into her her stitches. She conceded. She didn't have much of a choice, after all. She'd have to sleep, and hopefully, he wouldn't make her _sleep_ before she'd have a chance to wake up again. Though, for whatever reason he'd left her alone before...

Physically unable to think about it clearly anymore, she let her eyes close and drifted quickly off.


	6. Hilarious

Jeff sat up and peeled the now dry wash cloth off his eyes. It was almost night again, and the sirens finally stopped. He put the cool medicine Abby had given him in his eyes and waited for the temporary burning to stop. Before he settled back down to get a little more sleep, he glanced over at his little playmate. She lay next to the wall opposite the one he lay next to. She'd been in the same position for hours, the only sign of life being her shallow breath. It was strange, having another person in the room while he slept. He wasn't sure she knew exactly close he'd gotten to killing her when they'd gotten back from the hospital. It would have been easy, tired as she was, but doing so while she'd been unable to respond, well. Normally, he wouldn't have cared. All he wanted was for his victims to be old enough and aware enough to know what was happening, but this was more...personal.

Besides...she was the first person who'd actually done something nice for him in a long time. He couldn't decide what to think of it, why she would bring her killer medicine to keep him from going blind. And the way she talked about emotions and such before they'd left the hospital, he was finally starting to believe that she might be telling the truth when she said she couldn't feel anything.

He lay down on his back and placed the cold, wet rag over his eyes. After all the bloodshed the night before, the feeling wasn't tearing at the back of his head for once. It was still there, lingering. He didn't think it would ever completely leave him. It was all Randy's fault, that fucking bastard. He'd kill him again if he could, and he'd take his time with it. He was the reason he was like this now, he was why his family, why Liu...

_Liu_.

Jeff sighed and sat up, pulled the wash cloth off and tossed it to the floor. He really didn't want to think about these things right now. Giving up on trying to get back to sleep, he thought of what he should do to keep himself busy. His eyes fell on the sleeping woman, and after a moment of consideration he picked up his knife and walked over to her side of the room. He kneeled next to her and carefully pulled her shirt up, wanting to look at the wound. She was laying on it, though. He put the tip of his blade against the soft, smooth skin of her stomach and made a thin, quick cut. Her muscles flexed in response, and she began to stir.

"Hey, Abby Addams, wake up. I'm bored." he said, digging his finger into the thin bleeding line he'd put into her.

She made a soft noise as she was pulled from her sleep. Finally, she was awake enough to sit up. Her eyes, which he noticed had deep circles under them, focused on his. She gave him a tired, forced, fake smile, "Hi. Good morning?" she glanced at the window, the sun getting ready to set outside, then back to him, "Or night?"

Now that she was in an upright position, he pulled her shirt up further and looked at the stitched flesh, his dry flaking blood still on it. He lightly touched it with the knife, digging it into one of the threads. He put almost enough pressure to snap it, to the point that just a feather more would have. When she made no response, he pulled the blade away from her and returned his gaze to hers. "I was thinking we could go to the park tonight." he said suddenly.

"The park?" she tilted her head questioningly.

"Yeah. There's a dog park near here. Not many go there after dark, and it's an open area. I thought we could play there for a while."

"Sounds good." she said, "Should I start running now?"

"Nah. We haven't eaten yet."

"Eaten?"

"Yeah. Food. Stuff to put in your stomach so you don't die. Of starvation." at the word_ 'stomach'_ he jabbed the blade at an uninjured part of hers, causing another shallow wound.

"Are you going to keep that up until I die of blood loss?"

"Maybe. Are you going to _let_ me keep doing it until you die of blood loss?"

"No. I'll shove you away if you do it again."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Do you want it to be?"

Instead answering verbally, he cut her again. As she'd promised, she batted at the hand holding the knife and pushed herself off the wall, her palms landing against his shoulders. He dropped the weapon and grasped her wrists, laying back so that her momentum carried her forward. Once he was on his back he rolled over so that she was under him, and pinned her to the floor. It felt odd, have someone in this position and not have them be panicking. He laughed, amused.

"What's so funny?" she asked, seeming unbothered by the potentially fatal situation.

"I could strangle you." he said bluntly, "I could bash your head into the floor, snap your neck, tear your throat out. I could shove my fingers through your eyes and into your brain, and you aren't doing anything about it."

"That is funny?"

"It's _fucking hilarious_." he sat up, straddling her waist, his arms folded over his chest. He chuckled again as he looked down at her, "Not many people would take the possibility so well."

"Most people don't have something missing in their head." she countered, and again, that fake, stupid smile.

"Will you stop it?" he snapped, suddenly annoyed.

"Stop what?"

"That. Smiling when you don't mean it. It's like you're lying."

She frowned, though he could tell it was more bewilderment than actually being upset. "People usually prefer when I fake it than when I just sit here doing nothing at all."

"I don't. Be yourself, or I don't want to play anymore."

"Understood." she said simply, before pushing up with her elbows so she was closer to his face. "So then, if I may ask, why are you acting so strangely today?"

He snorted and pushed on her shoulders again, making her lay back down. He leaned his face in close to hers, close enough to feel her breath. He gazed deeply into her eyes, as if about to tell her a secret, "No reason." he hopped off her and stood, waiting for her to stand as well before he spoke again, "So, we'll go to the bar first, then we'll go to the park."

"Okay." she ran her fingers through her hair, trying to straighten it out a little while he retrieved his knife and stuffed it into the pocket of his hoodie. He pulled the hood up, and started for the door, motioning for her to follow. They walked side by side down the road, a soft night breeze starting up. "So," she said, looking over at him, "Does this mean you're actually enjoying our game?"

He shrugged, gripping the blade, trying to reopen the wound again, "I have nothing else better to do." he replied in monotone.

"You're mocking me."

"Angry?"

"No. I can't get angry."

He reached out and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her hard enough to almost knock her over onto the ground. She made a light, half yelp of surprise as she steadied herself. "How 'bout now?"

She stared at him for a moment, "You want me to be angry?"

This time he pushed her, though she handled herself better this time, having been expecting it, "You're doing things just to see what I do. Turn about's fair play, my friend."

"Jeff? What did you mean last night?" she asked, changing the subject.

"Last night?" he met her gaze, seeing the curiosity flash underneath.

"You said, you don't kill out of anger. You said you kill because you can't control 'it' if you don't. What it 'it?'"

He didn't answer for a moment, the memories of that night all those years ago flashing through his mind. He sighed and reached into his pocket, reopening the wound he'd given himself the night before with his knife. "It's a...feeling." he said slowly, unsure how to explain it. He didn't know what it was himself, but to try and tell someone who didn't feel emotion? "In the back of my head. It...it made me do something I never wanted to do, and if I don't kill I can't keep it from taking over."

"...what did it make you do?"

"I don't want to talk about it! Fuck, can't you take a hint?" he snarled darkly, quickening his pace so she fell a few steps behind. Apparently, she understood, because she fell completely silent for almost a minute.

Just as he thought she wasn't going to say anything else the rest of the trip, she spoke on word. "Apologies."

He paused and looked back at her, just in time to see her stop walking as well. She stood there, her face blank as ever, her eyes meeting his evenly. His anger fading, he stepped back so he was beside her again and grabbed a hold of the brace on her wrist. With a sudden, hard tug, he knocked the woman off balance, "Catch me if you can." he challenged, before taking off down the road.

"Jeff!" she called after him, but he only laughed and sped up.

He would kill her, eventually. That very night, if he could get a hold of her. But that was no reason he couldn't mess with her until then, was it?


	7. At The Bar

Abby finally caught up to Jeff as they reached the bar. He snickered as she approached, "So," he said, "What's it like to have someone suddenly run off when you least expect it? You've done it to me twice now."

"You were trying to kill me both times." she pointed out, and almost bared her teeth for him, but stopped at the last moment. He didn't like it, did he? He called it lying. Most people got upset and said she was stuck up when she didn't at least attempt to seem friendly. Then again, most people didn't run around gutting others, either. When she came within arm's reach she reached up and pressed two fingers to his forehead, "Caught you."

He attempted to look where she was touching, going cross eyed for a moment. "That's what _you_ think." he wrapped his hand around her wrist and pulled it down, though he didn't let go. Instead he tugged it, like a little kid wanting to lead a parent somewhere. She let him lead her into the building, slightly confused as to why he wasn't releasing her yet. As the heat from his body melted into her skin, she looked around, taking in their surroundings. Like the night before, the bar was dusty, semi crowded, and rather chaotic. Drunks wandered about, groups of people complained about various things in their lives, and some couples flirted with each other. Within a few moments, the host came by and led them to a table in the back. Jeff didn't let her go until they got there, and only seemed to have done it so they could sit down opposite each other. "Okay," he said after the woman gave them menu's and walked away, "Most of the food here sucks. The pizza and the nacho's are about the only things they have that are worth ordering."

She pushed her menu toward the center of the table, "I'll have whatever you have." she said, and folded her hands in her lap politely.

He leaned forward, resting his head on intertwined fingers. She noted he'd cut them open again, as they were dripping fresh blood. It reminded her of her own wounds. They were in the same place, but deeper than his, so much so that the doctors had put stitches in.

Her body was actually in pretty poor shape, if she really thought about it. The stab wound in her side, though it was sewn shut, was still rather painful. Her wrist throbbed in time with her heart, despite the brace that was meant to keep it from moving. With all this physical discomfort, she was slightly surprised she'd managed to sleep at all. Then again, she'd been completely exhausted, to the point she'd needed that adrenalin shot just to function for that last hour. In any case, she didn't think she'd survive another direct confrontation with the man, so she'd have to try to avoid him.

"Okay." he said, "We'll just get a big pizza then."

She nodded, "Thank you."

This seemed to amuse him, "It's only so you'll put up more of a fight later, Abbs."

"Still, thank you."

"Whatever you say."

How to avoid him though? They were going to the park, which was more open. The new area was both better, and worse, than the abandoned house. It was more open, so it would be harder for him to get a hold of her. At the same time, there were fewer places to hide. She'd be forced to run quite bit, which would be taxing on her already weakened body. She supposed she could put some distance between them, climb a tree, and hope he doesn't look up.

Could she even do that without hurting herself?

"Hello," purred the server as she approached, "I'm Cassidy, and I'll be your server tonight. What can I get you?"

Abby closed her eyes, letting Jeff take care of the order. Instead, she tried to focus on what to do when they resumed their game. It was a park, so if she got into a pinch she could grab a rock to defend herself. A fist sized stone to the head should at least stagger him, but if she had a choice she would avoid doing direct damage to him. Particularly if that damage could potentially result in his death, considering he was the only person left that she was interested in being near.

"I want a large pepperoni pizza and two large screwdrivers."

Screwdrivers? Alcohol? It was a bar, after all, but she found herself suspicious of the idea. He could be trying to affect her ability to think and reason, perhaps make it easier for her to catch. Or he could be trying to help dull her pain, so she could move around easier. Of course, that was rather unlikely. Then again, the idea that her possible killer would take her out and feed her was just as unlikely, if not more so.

"Of course, hun. I'll get right to it."

The conversation ended there, and it was likely the woman had walked away. She couldn't be completely sure, the music playing in the background and the other people talking drowned those softer noises out. She exhaled slowly, still thinking. Her wrist would make climbing a tree difficult, but was it impossible?

"Abigail?" she opened her eyes and met his gaze. He didn't seem to be able to decide what to call her, though she couldn't say she took issue with it.

"Yes?"

He leaned in closer, still balancing on his fingers, "What are you thinking about?"

"What to do when we get to the park." she answered honestly, "I won't tell you exactly, though. You?"

He tilted his head, and she noted how...frightening, the shadow his hood cast over his unblinking eyes must be. That twisted smile carved into his face was something of nightmares. Did someone else do that to him, or had he done it? He didn't seem to mind inflecting pain on himself thus far. Though, why in the world would anyone burn their own eyelids off and risk going blind? Not that Jeff was the most sane of people, but still. Perhaps someone else did do it, and that triggered his insanity. She really should ask later. If she lived.

"I'm thinking of what to do with you when I catch you." he said, a slight, low growl entering his voice, "I'd want to go slow, make it last. Maybe tear your organs out one at a time. Leave your heart for last."

"You'd have to avoid cutting into any major arteries." she pointed out, "I might bleed to death before you get to my heart."

He snorted, "You aren't bothered by anything, are you?" he asked, his tone returning to normal again.

"Not especially. I'd rather you not gut me, but it's not like I could stop you once I loose. I-" she cut herself off as the server came by and set their drinks in front of them. Abby considered the orange liquid for a moment, then picked up the glass and took a small sip. Just enough to wet her mouth. It was sweet, tangy, with just a little bitterness from the alcohol underneath. She quietly set it back down and continued, "I proposed this game. I followed you and made my presence known when you couldn't find me. I know very well the consequences of these actions."

"Do you? Well then, what if I don't kill you? What if I kept you captive, torture you, and made you watch others die?"

"I don't think you'd do that. I believe that you're attempting to frighten me."

"Are you sure?"

She paused, considering for a moment. "I can't be completely sure, no. Humans are unpredictable. However, it is unlikely you would have the patience to keep someone alive for very long. If you were to attempt, I'd predict less than twenty four hours you'd snap and kill me."

It took several seconds for him to respond, and when he did she couldn't quite identify the emotion behind his words, "You don't think I can be

patent?"

"No. Again, I admit I could be wrong. It is simply...a theory."

He fell silent, and so did she. Eventually, the food came, and they ate in silence. She realized just how right he was about the quality of the food when she took the first bite. The pizza was oily, almost dripping with geese. It had a spongy, doughy texture. The only semi decent thing was the taste, and even then it wasn't enough to save the dish. She didn't think she'd ever had anything so revolting. This was the best thing here? How many health regulations was this place in violation of? Not that many people seemed to worry about the food, as intoxicated as they were. The drinks were good, at the very least, but she was sure they'd get shut down if anyone from the health department ever set foot in the door.

Despite how hungry she'd been from not having eaten in a while, she stopped after eating a full slice. She was worried that her stomach might reject it if she tried to take in any more. Jeff laughed as she pushed the plate toward the center of the table, politely indicating she was finished. "It's not exactly five star is it?" he said, still shaking with mirth.

"And you come here often?" she asked, and took another sip of her drink, washing the pizza down, "I'm sure you have more than enough to get yourself something more eatable. You get the money from your victims, yes?"

He calmed a little, and responded, "I can. And I do, sometimes. I order fast food when this stuff gets to me, or if I run across anyone with some I take it from them. Thing is, this is the closest, easiest place to find people. No one bothers you when you come in and leave with someone whom never comes back, and most importantly, not a word is ever spoken about the blood on my clothes or the smile on my face. Though, best to keep the hood up, anyway." he paused, and glanced down at her barely touched screwdriver, "About half of that, I'd suggest. It won't hurt you."

Half? That was the same amount he'd had, she noted. She took his advice, if only to dull the pain in her side, and slowly drank the sweet liquid. When it reached the desired level, she set it back down and refocused her attention on the man across from him, "You must move around a lot, considering your diet isn't exactly the healthiest."

"Do you have any idea how much people fight when they're about to die?" he asked as he pushed his own food out of the way, "Now then," he pulled out some paper bills and lay them on the table, "Ready to get to the park?"

She nodded and stood, pleased with how stable the room seemed. Her skin was slightly warmer, but she was by no means drunk. Jeff stood as well, and together they walked out of the bar. After a few moments of making their way down the street, he grabbed her good wrist again, like he'd done earlier. She didn't object, though she was curious as to why he did it. Normally, it was a symbol of affection, but with this killer she'd no clue what to make of it.

She exhaled deeply, trying to ready herself for whatever would happen next.


	8. Blood

Jeff lead the woman toward the park, his fingers still wrapped around her wrist. She still hadn't said anything about it, even after a full ten minutes passed and he still didn't let go. He wondered if she even cared. Then again, she couldn't care about much of anything, could she?

At least her skin was warm.

They weren't too far off from the park, but he decided to fill the silence anyway. "Abby Addams?" he waited for her to turn her head to look at him, and asked the first thought to come into his head, "What's it like? Not to feel..._anything_?"

She tilted her head, giving him a long, blank stare. Her eyes seemed to fog over, as if she wasn't even seeing what she was looking at. He'd noticed her doing that a couple times, but she'd always come back to reality within a few moments. This took quite a bit longer than before. Finally, he gave her a light squeeze, and immediately he regained her attention. She looked down at his hand, still holding onto her, appearing to have forgotten he was touching her. She met his eyes again and he saw her lips twitch. She must have been thinking of giving him one of those fake smiles again, but had thought better of it.

"I'm...unsure how to describe it. I've never experienced anything to compare with this state. I only have what I observe from others." she turned away, her attention shifting back to the road, "I do not fear, I do not get hate, and I do not love. I just...exist. I'm also hyper aware of everything around me most of the time. I can listen to three different conversations, while reading a book and listening to the television, all at the same time. And I can tell you what what they were talking about, as well as the plot of my story and what was on TV. I can be bored, when all mental stimulation is removed. That is the only thing I can say I...truly dislike. Boredom. Nothingness. Which, I suppose, is rather ironic."

"If you can't feel, why do you fake it?"

"I was trying to give my parents contentment. They always seemed...disappointed, when I didn't act the way they thought I should. If I faked it, even if they knew I was, it allowed them to pretend I'm just another, normal normal girl. I suppose it just became habit...Jeff?"

"Mmm?"

"What's it like to have emotions?"

It was his turn for a long pause. How was he supposed to explain that? "Um..." he said slowly, "It...it depends on the emotion, I guess. I-I mean...well, anger feels like a burning in your chest. And ah, sadness feels like, like you're drowning. Fear is like having a blade made of ice going through your heart. Happiness feels like you're...like there are bugs, flying around inside you."

"Happiness is the sensation of insects beneath the skin. That doesn't sound pleasant."

"In a good way! Butterfly wings fluttering in your stomach and all that crap. It's a_ nice_ feeling."

"If you say so." she reached up with her free hand and rubbed the back of the brace against her neck, then lowered it with a wince. It was hurting her, it seemed, "Hate is an extreme form of anger, yes?"

"Yes. No." Jeff sighed and scratched the back of his head, "I don't know. I've never thought about it much."

"Then, what is love?"

"Love?" the park was within eyesight now. A large area surrounded with iron fencing, and a door locked with a padlock. Someone would come and open it up every morning, then close it back down at night. "Love is like happiness, but stronger. Much, much stronger."

"So love is like a billion insects infesting every inch of your body? Crawling in and out of every pour, devouring you from the-"

"No! Fuck, you're doing it on purpose now, aren't you? If you love someone, you're happy when they're happy, upset when they are. You want to be with them. And they are different kinds. Romantic, friendship, sibling..." he trailed off, his stomach twisting sickly at the thought of his brother. The feeling had gotten out of his control, the feeling that had surfaced because of that bastard Randy and his bullying. And he'd lost his family because of it, had watched the life drain from their eyes and hear their final cries as they breathed their last.

"Are you trying to dislocate my good wrist?"

He realized he'd been tightening his grip on her, to the point her hand was starting to discolor. He let go, and saw the beginnings of finger shaped bruises forming on her skin. "Oh. Oops."

Finally, they reached the fence. They'd have to climb it, which he had to help her with, considering her injuries. He crouched with his back to it, his hands interlocked, "Come on," he ordered, in case she didn't get the hint.

Without protest, she carefully put her foot in his palms, and stepped up. A low grunt came from his throat as he took on her weight, his body shifting as she stood on top of his shoulders. He waited until she got her balance and grabbed onto the fence, before he stood up. This lifted her up high enough that she could pull herself over it without much effort. A soft thud sounded, and he turned to find her on her back on the ground. He laughed as she got back up, "Okay, Abby," he said, leaning his forehead against the cold metal, "We aren't in time out anymore. You have until I get over this thing myself."

At that he began to climb, and instantly she darted off, running toward the back of the park. He hauled himself over and let himself fall the rest of the way. His landing was a bit more graceful than hers, as he managed to stay on his feet. He turned and found her trying to climb up one of the trees. Of course she failed, her wrist made such a feat impossible for her. At least she was smart enough to realize this, as she quickly turned and continued to run away from him. He gave chase, following her almost effortlessly. She was quite a bit slower than she'd been the day they'd met, though that was more than expected. The stab wound and blood loss had taken quite a lot out of her.

Around and around they went, like they were caught playing cat and mouse. He'd almost catch her, get her into one of the four corners of the park, and she'd change direction, squirm out of the trap. There were no places to hide, no twisting paths in which she could loose him. It was more a waiting game, to peruse her until she was too exhausted to flee anymore.

Which didn't take too long, really.

She tripped, not quite falling over, but she stumbled pretty badly. He leaped forward, and tackled her to the ground. Her body writhed under him as he worked to get on top of her. She ended up on her back, and lashed out at him, pulled his hair, dug her nails into his skin, and even tried to kick him. He managed to pin one arm down, and straddle her waist. His fingers wrapped tightly around the brace, and in her attempt to free it she accidently twisted it the wrong way and cringed at the pain. He took the opportunity to pin her other arm down, and she bucked, trying to throw him off. He yanked her arms up above her head and held her there. After a few moments of wriggling around, she seemed to realize her position as she stopped moving around. He hovered over her, watching her chest rise and fall quickly. The wound on her stomach had reopened, staining the white nurses uniform she wore with crimson.

"You caught me." she spoke weakly, her voice breathless from the strain she'd put on herself.

"Hah, I win." he said proudly, "Didn't think you'd last that long, though."

She frowned, again not from being upset, but from confusion. "Where's your knife, Jeff?"

His knife? _Oh..._

He let go of her wrists and sat up, still keeping her pinned with his lower body. He pulled the blade from his pocket and just stared at it for a moment, his own blood shining off of it from when he cut himself earlier. He hadn't even thought about talking it out...

"Jeff?" he refocused his attention to the woman, whom he suddenly realized must have been wondering why she was still alive.

"Um," he started, and lowered the blade to rest against her collar bone. She wasn't fighting him at all, it'd be child's play to slit her throat. The feeling tugged harder at the back of his head, reacting in favor to the idea. Make her suffer and die, how satisfying it would be to walk away and leave her corpse there to rot. "You should be going to sleep right now." he could hear the tremble enter his own voice, and growled in frustration at himself. He needed to feel her life's liquid pour out from within her, but...but she...

But she was the only person not to freak out, even in the face of what he was. She didn't scream at his face, she didn't cry and beg for her life. She accepted everything he was. She went out of her way to get him medicine so his eyes wouldn't be infected anymore.

The feeling turned in his mind, furiously protesting this train of thought. _Kill her! Rip her apart!_

He growled again, deeper, darker, clashing with the smile forever sliced into his face. "Jeff?" she asked again, "Are you-"

"Shut the fuck up!" she barked at her, moving the knife to her cheek, silently threatening to carve her a smile as well. He'd done it to some of his other victims, he should do it to her. Instead of feeling excitement at the prospect, it only upset him more. "What's _wrong_ with you, huh? How can you just lay there?"

"I-"

"Fucking liar!" he interrupted, "How can you feel nothing at the thought of death, huh? How?" his hand was shaking, and she'd obviously noticed it because she glanced down at the weapon, then back up to his unblinking eyes.

"Why are you so angry?" the pure bewilderment was clear in her tone, but he didn't care. Of course she didn't understand, _the little bitch_. But then, he didn't know why he was blowing up at her, either.

He slowly moved the blade downwards, over her throat, between her breasts, over her stomach, and finally stopped at the bottom of her shirt. He slipped the tip under the fabric, and used it to pull it up, uncovering the large wound in her side. It was bleeding pretty badly, though only two of the stitches seemed to have come undone. He scooted down a little, almost laying on her legs, and lowered his head to the wound. He flicked his tongue out to run along the length of the raw flesh, tasting her. The blood was hot, tangy and metallic, wetting his throat as he swallowed it down.

Again and again he licked her, taking the red liquid into his own body. After a moment he let go of the knife and put both hands at her waist, holding her as he pressed his lips to the area where the stitches broke, and lapped at the oozing hole. Gradually, the persistent pull eased, the feeling fading once more to a more manageable level.

Now able to think a little more clearly, he pulled away and looked up at her. Her head lay back against the grass, her gaze focused on the starry sky overhead. "Abigail?"

Instantly, she sat up, leaning her weight on her elbows, and looked at him. Her skin was slightly pale, an she looked a little ill. Despite this, she tilted her head at him slightly, "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice still weak.

He nodded, "Yeah. I'm fine. Let's ah, let's see if we can fix this." he pulled his hoodie off, exposing his thin white shirt underneath. He bunched it up and pressed it to her side, trying to help the wound clot again.

She sighed softly and lay back down again, "Why...why didn't you-"

"I'm just not ready to stop playing yet, okay?"

She sighed softly, "Okay. Jeff, I'm not sure I can make it over the fence."

"It's okay. We can wait until they open the gate."

"But they'll see-"

"No they won't. We'll find somewhere to hide before they come."

"But-"

"Abby, shh." he applied a little more pressure, "Just...just rest for now."

She feel silent. After several minutes, he noticed her breath slow, her muscles completely relax. She'd been so worn out she'd fallen asleep right there. He carefully peeled his hoodie away from her skin, and was pleased to see the bleeding had stopped. Instead of putting it back on, he put it over her, and carefully huddled against her to keep her warm. He thought of sleeping himself, but he couldn't wet down the rag. And besides, he had to stay awake, so they could get out before someone caught them.

He glanced up at the sky. They had at least three or four hours of night left, and about five before he had to think about the park opening up. He wrapped an arm around her, though he was careful so as not to draw more blood. While he waited for daylight to come, he watched her breathing, and concentrated on the soft, throbbing sensation he could feel against his fingertips as he pressed them over her heart.


	9. News Broadcast

**AN: I just wanted to take this opportunity to thank everyone who's read and reviewed this story. Thank you all so very, very much. ^^**

* * *

She sighed to herself as she sat down on the sofa, her head throbbing from an exhaustion induced headache. It had been such a long day, and she'd been on the go most of it. The apartment had been such a mess, and even after all the work she'd done it still wasn't clean. Oh well, it had been more than worth it, to see the look on her face when she came home from her secretary job. The woman was in bed now, asleep, so she decided to indulge in a little television.

She picked up the remote and flecked it on, before changing through the channels She caught little bits and pieces of the different programs as she went. A man leaping away from an explosion, a collie barking as it tried to draw the attention of it's owners, a dinosaur killing a man inside a outhouse. Nothing really caught her eye, until she came across a news station. They were talking about the massacre at the hospital that happened the night before, and she was interested to see how it was going to turn out. Who attacks a freaking hospital of all places? Honestly.

_The names of the deceased, numbered at thirty seven, both staff and patent, have been released. One person, who's body wasn't found, turns out to be Abigail Addams, whom went missing on the fourteenth. For those of you not following the case, she was kidnapped from her home following the gruesome death of her parents._

She remembered. Half the neighborhood where it happened was in a uproar about it. It was one of those 'nothing ever happens here! Why bother locking the door?' places. Fools, letting their guard down like that.

_Reports say that she'd suffered numerous injuries, including a dislocated wrist and a stab wound in her side, just under her rib cage As her body wasn't found, we can only assume the person who kidnapped her from her home wanted her back, thus provoking the attack. If you see either of these people, call the police. Do not approach the man, as he is considered armed and extremely dangerous._

As the newscaster said this, two pictures came up, side by side. One, Abigail's, was a photograph, while the other was a detailed drawing. She felt her heart nearly leap into her throat at the sight on the dim screen before her. No, no it couldn't be...but there was no mistaking it. The man had long, messy black hair, wide, unblinking eyes, and scars on his face that gave him that twisted smile that haunted her dreams. How could this be? He was supposed to be dead! How...just, just _how?_

Anger flooded through her system, and she turned the thing off before she couldn't control it anymore. As quietly as she could so as not to alert the other woman, she left the house, using every bit of will power she possessed not to slam the door. She walked away, moving past several blocks. When she was absolutely sure she was out of earshot, she tangled her hands in her hair and let out a long, frustrated scream.


	10. Rest

Abby was awake, though she kept her eyes closed, and stayed as still as she could. If Jeff knew she wasn't still asleep, he didn't say anything about it. She didn't know how long she'd been out, though she could guess at least a few hours. The sun was up, at least a little bit. She could tell from the soft glow that melted through her eyelids.

She was in roughly the same position she'd fallen asleep in. On her back, on the grass. The only difference was that her should-have-been murderer wasn't trying to stop the stab wound in her stomach from bleeding anymore. He was pressed up against her side, his arm wrapped around her, and was tracing little circles into her chest.

She didn't understand, he'd caught her. He'd won, why didn't he kill her? Wasn't that what they'd agreed upon when they started this game, that for him to catch her would mean her death? Well, technically she was the one who came up with that rule, but she'd been so sure that was his goal anyway. Why did he get so upset? Drink her blood? Apply his hoodie like gauze to stop her from bleeding out?

His fingers drifted lower, past her breasts to run along her stomach. She noted that he was focusing on internal organs, tracing the areas above her lungs, then down to her liver and kidneys. Any one of those areas could prove a weak point to his blade. So why didn't he made use of such weakness? She was helpless at the moment.

Maybe that was it. Maybe he wanted her to be fighting back when he struck the final blow. But then, she had been fighting back, and he didn't even pull his knife out until she asked about it, as if it hadn't even crossed his mind.

So many questions, so little answers. Why was he touching her like that? It wasn't something she would ever expect a killer to do to one of his victims. Unless of course that person was also a serial rapist, but Jeff didn't seem the type to her. Besides, she was sure a rapist would be far rougher than this.

"Abby Adams." his voice came in warm breath, whispered in her ear, "Time to wake up."

She exhaled slowly, and opened her eyes. The soft blue stabbed at them, and set off a pain in her head that was almost nauseating. She closed her eyes again and turned her head to one side, a tremor going through her as her stomach muscles contracted. Slowly, it faded to a soft throb. Cautiously, she opened them, and found Jeff staring back at her. "...hi." she said quietly, knowing that loud noises would likely have the same effect bright light would.

"Good morning." he whispered, seeming to have had the same idea, "We need to get out of here. They'll be opening soon."

He didn't wait for her to respond, not that she was going to object anyway. It was true, if they were caught trespassing they'd likely get arrested. Jeff would go to prison, and who knows what would happen to her. They'd probably let her go once he was charged with the murder of countless people. Then they'd want her to be a witness against him. Maybe they'd even force her to go to a therapist, to _'work out the trauma'_ he'd put her through. She disliked the idea of having to go to a therapist, after all the ones her parents took her to before she was diagnosed. They bore her to no end.

He stood, pulled his hoodie back on, wrapped an arm around her and helped her to stand up. Instantly the world turned sickeningly around her, but he helped her remain upright. They started for the closest fence, the pace slow as she had to lean most of her weight on him. She closed her eyes and kept her head lowered in an attempt to both keep the dizziness to a minimum, and to not make the pain flare again. Not that the rest of her body wasn't protesting every movement she made.

When they finally made it, Jeff pulled away, leaving her to stand there trembling under her own weight. "Come on," he said as he crouched down, his hands interlocked in front of him.

She very carefully placed her foot in his palms, and let him lift her up. As soon as she was close enough, she clung onto the metal wiring, her balance wavering dangerously. If she wasn't very, very careful, she'd fall over. Swaying, she stepped onto his shoulders, and waited for him to stand. After he did, she put both hands on top of the fence and began to pull herself over it. An involuntary moan escaped as the cold bar pressed hard into her already upset stomach, though she made sure it didn't go over the wound. She threw a leg over, then the other, and let herself drop down. She actually managed to land on her feet, though in her current state she ended up falling onto her back again. She was displeased about this situation, but she supposed it couldn't be helped. She'd need food, something high in iron to combat the blood loss. This was likely to take a couple days to recover from, if she had the chance to do so.

Jeff climbed over, and instead of helping her up and making her walk as she expected him to do, he picked her up. An arm under her knees and one around her shoulders. It wasn't the most comfortable of positions, but it was sufficient. She thought that perhaps it wasn't so much so she wouldn't have to suffer the trip back, rather so the trip itself would be faster. As he was a killer, she knew he wouldn't like to wander around in the daylight.

The only sound was his footsteps on the road as he carried her. Neither of them spoke at all, and there weren't many people out yet to notice them. Soon enough, he let her back down in front of the abandoned building and opened the door. Like he did before, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist and tugged her inside.

It was...easier, in the house. It wasn't so bright. It didn't hurt so much. He lead her to her side of the living room and pushed down on her arms, making her sit. She looked up at him, her vision slightly blurry, every nerve within her calling for her to rest.

"I don't understand." she said, asking the question he'd refused her last night, "Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged, and reached down to the bottom of her shirt. "Would you believe me if I said I was having fun?" he replied as he tugged it up over her head. She didn't fight the issue, and let him take it off.

"No. I don't think so." she watched him pull his hoodie off, then the undershirt, and finally pull the hoodie back on. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing." he said, rolling the two articles of clothing into a ball. He put a hand on one of her shoulders and pushed, forcing her to lay down. He slipped the two shirts under her head, forming a makeshift pillow. "Get some rest."

"Jeff." she called as he started to walk away, "Why am I still alive?"

"Because I tasted your blood instead of pulling your innards out." he said, then chuckled, "Don't try to understand. You can't feel, so I can't explain it."

"You can try."

"Nah. Just accept it for what it is. I'm going out for a while. I need to satisfy some urges."

She watched him leave, knowing he was likely intending to kill someone before returning. He can't explain it? Was it the feeling he spoke of before? She exhaled and closed her eyes, sleep quickly clouding her mind. She was just so tired, and he wasn't there anyway. There was no reason she couldn't...couldn't...

She shifted restlessly as the distorted images from a forgotten dream lingered in the back of her mind. She considered for a moment whether she should wake up fully or not, a question that was decided when she caught the sound of someone's breath. She pulled herself up into a sitting position and took in her surroundings.

The dim light coming in from outside the windows told her that the sun was close to setting. Jeff lay opposite her, curled up, his back to her. And a few feet away from her, she saw a brown paper bag. Abby stared at it, her confusion only deepening.

She carefully pulled the bag closer and pulled it open, trying not to wake the man as she did so. Inside were three hamburgers, and a small bottle of orange juice. He was feeding her, again.

She unwrapped one and started eating it, only distantly aware of the taste, of how her stomach eagerly accepted the food, of how badly her hand shook from the strain of holding something up. Even after resting most of the day away, she still felt exhausted. The only thing she really focused on was, why? He outright refused to answer this question directly. He drank her blood so he didn't have to kill her? Maybe he was right, maybe it was impossible for her to ever understand. But she would, if she could.

She'd devoured the second hamburger when Jeff shifted. She watched him sit, pick up the rag that had fallen off his face, and toss it aside in disgust. He picked up the bottle of venamox and dripped it into each eye, before turning his attention to her.

"When you're better," he started, "We can play again. And not better as in, 'I can run if I really try,' I mean _better_, better."

She tilted her head, pleased when the room didn't turn around her, "You want me to be more of a challenge?"

"Yeah. You can keep the shirt if you want. I almost never take this off anyway." he motioned to what he was currently wearing.

"Thank you." she responded, and waited for him to tell her she shouldn't. He didn't.

He did, however, get up and walk over to her, kneeling down to look at the stitches. She watched as he ran a finger over the raw flesh, irritated from having been pulled open again. If it had the chance to close, and stay closed, it would heal. "Anyway," he said, hie gaze meeting hers, "Is the food helping?"

"Yes. Very much so." she said, and felt the heat from his hand as he began to casually play with her bra strap. After a moment, he slipped it off her shoulder and down her arm. His lead lowered, and his warm, wet tongue ran over the thin strip of skin he'd uncovered. He looked up at her when she made no attempt to stop nor encourage his behavior.

"Nothing?"

"Nothing."

"Hmm." he moved his hand behind her head, and lightly dug his nails into her scalp as he pulled her forward. She was about to ask what he was doing when he pressed his lips against hers. A kiss? He moved continuously, not quite picking up a rhythm but not erratic enough to be called chaotic. His tongue, the same tongue that he'd used to drink her blood the night before, pressed demandingly against her front teeth. She parted them, letting him in, giving him free reign to to what he wished at the moment. He seemed to want to explore every inch of her mouth, the odd flavor of another person's saliva faintly joining with the food she'd just eaten. His hand brushed from her lower stomach upwards, to cup her rib cage opposite the stab wound. His thumb lightly brush the underside of her breast through her bra.

During all this, she never broke eye contact, and neither did he. When he finally pulled away, his mouth was slightly swollen and there was a bit of saliva dripping from his mouth, which he wiped away. "Still?" he asked.

She shook her head, "Still nothing."

He huffed and sat next to her, his legs crossed under him, "How the fuck can you not feel _anything?_" he asked, sounding irritated.

"That part of my brain never developed." she pulled the strap back up, "A rare birth defect I was told."

"I don't like it." he snapped.

"I can't help it. If I could, I would. I would have done it a long time ago. If I could feel, maybe I could learn why people do the things they do. It'd make everything a lot easier, at least."

A long silence stretched out between them. She opened the juice bottle and drank some. "Isn't there something out there that affects you?" a thoughtful note entered his voice.

"Nothing I know of. Unless you know of a cure for this, I'm going to remain this way until I die." she finished the bottle and put it back in the bag, deciding to leave the last hamburger for later.

"Any ideas for what to do while we wait for you to get better?" he asked.

"I'm unsure. Normally I read, if I've nothing else to do. Do you like books?"

"...books?"


	11. Alone

She opened the door and looked around the dark room, her gaze searching the shadows for the figure she so desperately hoped was there. Her heart, which had been fluttering hopefully, sank into despair when she flicked on the light and confirmed that indeed, no one was there. Still, she could be in another room, maybe.

"Hello?" she called out, though she knew there was no use. No one home but her. Oh, how could she be so _stupid?_ She'd somehow fooled herself into thinking that she'd be back after a full day of work. She should have known better.

She closed the door behind her, went over to the couch, lay down and curled up on her side, trying not to cry. Had she done something, said something? She never left without telling her first, ever. And they'd been having a lovely day, why would she just vanish like that?

Maybe she'd finally gotten sick of her. They'd spent five years together, maybe she got bored and moved on. She couldn't blame her. She was a freaking secretary, what was so exciting about her? She didn't even take breaks so they could go somewhere nice. In the entire time they'd known each other she'd never taken a vacation.

Finally, the tears fell down her face as they broke through her fragile barrier. She was alone again, _why_ did she have to be alone? She whimpered softly and held herself tighter and buried her face in the cushion as she began to quietly sob into it. It even smelled like her...

She had no one, what was she going to do now? What did she do to deserve this?

Something shifted next to her, and she felt a warm hand on her leg. Shock went through her as she looked up, meeting those beautiful eyes that gazed calmly back at her. "Y-you...you came back." her voice cracked painfully as she spoke.

The woman only smiled softly at her, "Did you doubt I would? You should know me better than that by now."

Something inside her quivered as guilt quickly replaced the mind-numbing sadness. She sat up and wrapped her arms tightly around the other, breaking down all over again and sobbing into her shoulder. Arms wrapped tightly around her, and a hand slipped under her shirt to rub comforting circles into her back. "I-I'm s- so so sorry." she whined, "I just, I-"

"Shh. It's okay." the woman crooned gently, "I was just upset is all."

"I'm sorry..."

"No. No, no, you didn't do anything wrong. Calm now...everything's alright."

"D-don't, don't ever leave me, like that..."

"Okay. Alright. I'm not going anywhere. Stop, before you hyperventilate."

"I, I'm -"

"Shh."


	12. Poetry

"Here." Jeff said as he plopped the book into Abby's lap, "You said this is what you wanted to do." he waited for her to pick it up and turn it over in her hands, the blood of it's last owner staining her fingertips. He'd planned to go to a store and actually buy one, but when he found it in his latest victim's position he figured, why not?

"Edger Allen Poe's a good author," she said as she opened it and flipped through the pages. "This has some of his more well known works in here. Did you find it at the bar?"

Ah, for a moment he'd thought she hadn't noticed the blood. Apparently, she had. "No. It was a collage kid, was reading it on a bench when I walked by. Someone...saw me when I went to the bar, so I had to leave."

She glance up at him, "You were recognized?"

"Yeah. I guess I might have missed someone at the hospital, because my face is plastered all over the TV now. So's yours. They're looking for you." he folded his arms neatly behind his back as he spoke, casually rocking back and fourth on the balls of his feet. "Apparently, I kidnapped you, and may or may not be doing horrific, dirty things to you. The chances of you being found alive are dwindling each moment you are missing."

"Very well. That only means that I must do everything in my power not to get caught."

"Don't you want to be rescued from my horrible, _horrible_ clutches?" he chuckled, actually rather amused at the situation. He would not steal someone away and keep them alive just so he can make them die a slower death. He'd just kill them and be done with it. If she hadn't come up with this odd little game, they would have found her corpse with her parents.

"No. I am content with my current situation." she said, clearly missing the point. He would have frowned at her, were he able.

"So, how are you doing? The dizzies go away?" he asked. It had only been about twenty four hours, so he wasn't expecting much improvement.

"I am no longer light headed. My stomach is in pain, my wrist is not as long as I don't put pressure on it. My fingers will need to have the stitches in them for a while longer, but I do believe they may be removed before everything else." she flipped through a few more pages, and seemed to finally come upon a story she liked, because she bookmarked it with the cover.

He thought back to the kiss he'd given her the night before. He'd hoped to get some sort of reaction. Distaste, fear, lust, something. But as with everything else he did, she'd taken it without even blinking. Having her life threatened, watching others die, nothing fazed her. Part of him envied her, really. If he felt nothing, maybe his family would still be alive. He wouldn't suffer through the guilt, the bloodlust, or that uncontrollable feeling. But then, he wouldn't feel happy either, wouldn't enjoy being with his brother or his parents. He couldn't imagine that, To have Liu back, and not to care about it one way or the other. To watch his parents die, and not think anything of it. Even if he did kill them himself, at least he'd felt something about their deaths.

He sat down in front of her, his hands folded on his lap as he looked at her. Perhaps to end her existence immediately would be a kindness, so she wouldn't have to watch others laugh and cry, only to wonder vainly why they would do such things. However, Jeff was enjoying her game, and he wasn't exactly a selfless person. Not to mention she...she'd done things for him. Nice things. Things no one had done for him in a long time.

Things he'd expect a friend to do.

Why would she do that? Logically, as that seemed to be her only method of thought, why it help her opponent win? Like the medicine. She would have had the advantage, were he to lose his sight. As it was, his vision was much better than before, the blur of the infection having faded almost completely.

Then again, she fully expected to lose, she'd said so herself. The game was more to see how long she could last, than who would win. She knew playing with him would cost her life, and she didn't even care. Did she actively want to die, or was she so curious about emotions that she was willing to do so? That seemed possible.

_But then..._

"You can't be completely emotionless." he stated, the realization dawning on him.

She tilted her head to one side, "What do you mean?"

"If you were utterly unable to feel, at all, _nothing_, then you would lack the want to learn about emotion at all. You said you wanted to find out 'why people do what they do.' That in of itself is a feeling, right? You shouldn't care enough to try."

He felt a sense of victory when he saw her eyes glaze over, losing herself again in her own mind. He would knock her out of it, but this time he wanted to know how she was going to respond.

When she finally came back, she straightened her head and spoke, "I never considered this. However, it does not change the fact that I do not fear, love or hate."

"But you _do_ feel something!" he insisted, unwilling to let it go, "You aspire to grow. You have desire. You felt compassion for your parents, so you tried to keep them from suffering. You gave me that." he motioned to the bottle in the corner. "Despite the fact that doing so in no way helped you. You don't feel everything, but you can't say you don't feel _anything_."

"I gave it to you to make the game more interesting." she said, "And as their child, it was my duty to provide happiness to them. These do not stem from my own desires."

"I don't think so." he leaned his chin on the palm of his hand, "I think you can feel, at least a little. And if you can, then if I press juuust the right buttons, you'll feel other things."

"I believe you are wrong."

He mimicked her tone, "I believe I am right."

"What ever it is that pleases you." and just like that she dropped it, her attention returning to the book. She opened the page she'd bookmarked, and asked, "Do you want to hear a story now?"

Jeff shrugged, chuckling softly. She was changing the subject, which meant he was right, "Go on."

"Very well. 'It was many and many a year ago, in a kingdom by the sea, that a maiden there lived, whom you may know, by the name of Annabel Lee...'"


	13. Pillow Case

She slipped the thin, black gloves on and opened the door. "Come," she whispered softly, and ducked under the police tape to enter the house. The other woman did as well, and she couldn't help the pang of guilt that flashed through her. Her love's aura was a mesh of deep, dark blues and purples. It hurt her to know she'd hurt her so. If she'd been thinking, she'd have woken her up first. She always acted like this, ever since they met, so she should have learned by then.

"Please, cheer up." she whispered, and lay a hand delicately on her shoulder. "I won't leave you. Ever. Not until the day I die." _and burn_, she added bitterly in her head. If there was something she regretted, one thing, it was that. She'd been a stupid little girl then, so naive, so foolish. And there was no way she knew of that it could be undone. Not that she knew of, at least. If there was, she would have done it long ago.

"I know." the other whispered, "I'm sorry. I can't help it."

"I know."

She pulled away and walked deeper into the house, all the while looking around. "Where do you suppose this Abigail's room is?"

"Not sure..." she replied thoughtfully, and together they went through the bottom floor, room by room.

There was no need to go upstairs, they found what she needed on the bottom floor. It was a...pitiful room. Not something she'd expect of a young woman. Just a bed, white walls, a dresser for her clothes. She'd pick a shirt, but no, they'd have been washed by then, and thus were tainted. Perhaps the pillow, yes...

She stepped forward, picked it up, and pulled the case off. She left the pillow there on the bed, and returned to the other, who was waiting at the doorway. She smiled and held the soft cloth up for her to see, "There is no way she did not touch this. We have what we need."

"Are you sure she's still alive? I mean, from what you've told me about Jeff..."

"I'll admit, it's not like him, no. But it's not like him to hide bodies, either. I think he may be torturing her. The sick fuck probably doesn't get off on death anymore, he needs pain. Let's go. The sooner we get back, the sooner we can know if she really is alive. And hopefully, if we find her, we'll find him."

"Think we can save her?"

There was an odd spark, an orange flare of excitement in her aura, and the woman couldn't help but smile. Her love enjoyed taking care of things. It was part of why she enjoyed her company so much. "Perhaps."


	14. A Walk

**AN: For those of you interested, in my profile, I have a link to a playlist for this story. Feel free to check it out, and if you like, suggest music that I might add to it. **

* * *

Almost a week passed without anything very important happening. For five days in a row the same exact routine played out. Abby would awake with a meal set in front of her, and Jeff missing. She would eat, and then wait for him to come back. When he did, the first thing he'd do was go over to her and lift her shirt up, to check the wound in her stomach and see how well it was healing. With lack of anything else to do, they'd talk for a while. He'd tell her about his latest kill, offer suggestions on where they should play next once she was up for it, or think of new and inventive ways to violently end her. She was reasonably certain he was looking for an emotional response, and seemed to grow flustered when she gave none.

"I could tie you up and cut you open. And then I could leave you there to be eaten alive by animals."

"Didn't you want to kill me?"

"I could shove your head into a microwave and turn it on."

"Most microwaves don't turn on with the door open anymore. I wish you luck finding one that does."

"I could douse you in hot oil and burn you to death."

"If you wish."

"I could strangle you with your own intestines."

"I do not believe the intestines are strong enough to constrict the air flow like that without tearing. I'd die from blood loss first."

"I could slowly, slowly sink my knife through your eye and into your brain."

"If you wish."

When they were done talking, either from boredom of from Jeff getting angry enough he didn't want to do so anymore least he kill her too soon, she would read out loud to him from the book he'd brought her. It was the only one they had, so when she'd finished it on the third day she had him pick which ever story he wanted to hear again. He was rather fond of 'The Raven' she found, as that was the one he chose most often.

Near sunrise, he'd leave again, and return with something for them both to eat together. Of course, he brought back something different every time, as he couldn't go to the same place too often anymore. He hadn't been recognized again just yet as he was careful to keep his hood up at all times when outside now, but it is always better to play it safe in such circumstances.

When he came back the fifth night with her first meal, he also brought a newspaper and had her read it to him. She did, and learned that they were about to give up the hopes of finding her alive. They were currently looking through nearby rivers and parks, trying to find a body. She exhaled, thinking that they were jumping to conclusions and shouldn't change their tactics until they were certain she was dead.

Not that it mattered, much. In fact, this was preferable, as she didn't wish to be found at the moment. She'd no plans of being found at all, until after she really was dead, though she'd no clue when that would be. Every time he was close to killing her, something happened to prevent it. She wasn't quite sure whether he intended to end her the next time they played or not. And even if he did, that didn't mean he wasn't going to change his mind like that last time. And they were likely to start the game up again soon.

The wounds on her fingers had healed enough to have the stitches taken out, which Jeff had assisted her with. The one in her side was beginning to close, though it still pained her when she moved. Her wrist had improved greatly, to the point she could take the brace off for an hour or so at a time to work the stiffness out of it.

When she finished reading the paper, at least, the section concerning them, he took it and tossed it in the corner. Apparently, this was the only thing he was interested in.

She reached for the book, anticipating another poem or two and then sleep, but the man shook his head, "You've been stuck in here for a while. Some fresh air will help." he insisted as he pulled her to her feet, unaccepting of any protest she might have come up with. Not that she really too issue with it, but shouldn't they try not to be noticed?

The night air was cool against her skin, a sensation that clashed with the heat of his hand gripping onto hers. Before he held onto her wrist, so this was slightly unexpected. After a moment of consideration, she lightly entangled her fingers with his and squeezed. He reacted in favor, tightening his grip as well.

As they walked down the road, she tilted her head back and stared up into the cloudless night. The stars dotted the endless black, and the bright orb that had replaced the sun shown down on them. "They say that there is something about the full moon that drives people crazy." she said, "There is more crime during this time of the month than any other time."

He looked up as well, and chuckled lowly, "I am not ruled by a fucking rock, Abby Addams."

She fell silent for a moment, shifted her gaze over to him. He met her eyes, his own unblinking and shadowed by his hood. He'd tightened the strings at the bottom, so she could just barely see the smile he was hiding. "Do you think others are?"

"There have always been superstitions about the moon. I think people hear these things and they act upon it afterwards."

"Like a subliminal message?"

"Yes."

She returned her focus on the road, "Should we move to another place? Somewhere we aren't as likely to be found?"

"I'm not ruled by the police either, Abigail."


	15. Flame

She stayed back and watched her angel work on the soft, white pillow case they'd found. Apparently, this would only work on the night of a full moon, so they'd been forced to wait a week. As she sat there in the near total darkness, she could see the other's outline move about. The woman poured something over the clothe, and she found herself hugging her arms close to her chest. Something about this felt...off. But it was fine, right? She would never do anything wrong. She was just trying to find that murderer, and maybe even find that one girl and rescue her. That was a good thing, yes?

Suddenly, there was an odd gust of air, warm and almost suffocating. There was a spark, and the room was illuminated as the pillow case in the center caught aflame. The fire burned and twisted, filling the air with a thick smoky scent. Her angel sat near it, on her knees, staring into it intently, but her eyes were unfocused. For a moment, she thought to go over, to try and knock her out of it and make sure she was okay. But she remembered the instructions given to her. Don't interfere, don't speak, don't do anything until it was over. No matter what.

She swallowed thickly, becoming slightly nervous as the seconds ticked by. The fire seemed to grow, hotter and brighter, seeming to burn longer than should be possible for the amount of material it had been given.

Then there was a mini explosion, the heat filling the room, the blaze coming far, far too close to the both of them for comfort. She squeaked, then covered her mouth, hoping she hadn't hurt anything my making that one noise. The flickering, waving tongues came within inches of her face. She flinched away, trying to avoid getting burned, but they only came closer, pinning her to the wall. She closed her eyes, trying to brace herself for the agony of being engulfed...

And then it was over. The golden light flooding through her lids turned to black. She opened her eyes again and found that the only cinders remained, curling the blackened fabric. The other woman was curled in on her self, doubled over in apparent pain. She gasped and ran over to her, placing a hand on her back, "Are you okay? Do you need anything? What's wrong?" the words came quickly, high pitched and laced with fear. She only got a dark chuckle as a response, "Did you find out what you needed to know?" she asked.

"Yes." she answered, her voice raspy, strained, "Abigail is alive. And I know exactly where she is..."


	16. Insanity And Despair

Jeff was happy to see how much Abby had improved. The weakness she'd been suffering from due to the blood loss had all but vanished. He was also pleased to see how much the stab would had healed, even after he'd reopened it. He tightened his grip on her hand, his thumb twisting slightly to brush against the large scabs that had formed. He'd taken the stitches out, but they were still quite a way from fading into scars. Chuckling lightly to himself, he began to dig his nail into one of the scabs, slowly slipping under it so he could tug it off. Instantly, warm wetness began to leak out, dripping from their hands to the ground. She didn't even flinch. He waited a few moments, then jabbed the nail in without warning.

She inhaled quickly, her eyes closing for just a second, and then returned to her normal, emotionless expression. She could feel surprise.

After his burst of inspiration, he'd decided to do everything he could think of to get some sort of reaction from her, even if it was involuntary. Verbal threats never fazed her, and pain was only a temporary discomfort. He'd tried pleasure once, in that kiss, but that hadn't even registered in her mind, had it? Of course, he could always try going a little further...but that was for another time. For the moment, he was content pressing in on the little things, and watching her face like a hawk.

"Do you enjoy seeing my blood?" she asked, the flat curiosity the only thing he could hear in her tone. He pulled her hand up close to his lips and glanced at her.

"I enjoy drinking it." he purred lowly, and proceeded to take her finger into his mouth. He ran his tongue over the oozing wound, the feeling in the back of his head writhing at the taste. This was how he could keep himself from killing her for so long. It was still difficult to suppress the urge, but not impossible, at least.

They rounded the final corner. Just a little longer and they'd be back to their makeshift home once more. She didn't look too tired, which was good. Perhaps they could play again, though he wasn't sure he wanted to start the game up again so soon. Maybe wait until she was back to a hundred percent before testing their strengths once more.

About three houses away, he felt a shiver go up his spine. Something in the air thickened, just a little. Enough to make his skin tingle, not so much as to make the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. He felt...excitement.

"Abbs," he said quietly, "You go on ahead. I got something I need to do."

She looked over at him, as if she was going to ask why but then thought better of it. He stopped and she kept going, his eyes on her back until she was safely in the house.

He chuckled. The feeling, which had only moments ago had been satisfied, grew in anticipation. He turned, his gaze searching for whomever was foolish enough to have followed them. "I know you're out there!" he called, "Why don't you come out and introduce yourself properly? There's so much we could talk about!" as he said this he pulled his knife from his pocket, and ran his tongue along the blade, letting the sharp edge cut into the soft flesh.

"Oh," replied a cool, feminine voice, "There are more things to discuss than you might be aware of, Jeff. Like...how, exactly are you still alive?"

As he watched, a familiar figure seemed to melt from the shadows of one of the neighboring houses. She was just as he remembered. Her raven hair and demonic eyes, blackened the color of cave darkness, served to give her already pale complexion a more ghostly appearance. He felt his heart quicken, and let out a laugh, "Jane! Long time no see. You know, I could ask you the same thing. How are _you_ still here after I shoved this," he motioned to the weapon in his hand, "Into your heart?"

She growled, and he loved the disgruntled sound. After all these years, she was still so fucking fun to upset, "I had to stay here, to make sure you were dead, you little bastard. And look who's still breathing."

"Oh. Oh I see! Did little Jane make another deal? You know, those things are bad for your health." her arms were shaking. She was so pissed her arms were actually shaking. He'd hit the nail on the head, "I can't believe it. You really did? Bad girl."

"I'm willing to give up anything to make you pay for everything you've done."

"You need to get your priorities straight."

"Shut up and fight!"

"So eager to die again, are we?" he moved into a slightly defensive position, "Why don't you make the first move, then?"

* * *

Jane snarled at him, just the sight of his sickening, crimson soaked aura was enough to enrage her. He was still a smug little shit after all this time. Oh, how she'd love to kick that ugly smile in. Ah, but now she had the chance, didn't she? She'd been hesitant, had kept her distance, because she hadn't wanted to get Abigail caught in the middle of their fight. She'd already promised her love she'd get a chance to take care of her if only they could get a hold of her alive, and she wasn't about to break it. She couldn't believe it when the killer just let the woman go, or that she'd just casually wandered off. Not that she cared at the moment.

She pulled out her own knife and rushed Jeff, who quickly dodged and countered, his knife catching the sleeve of her dress and nicking the skin. She darted backwards, and he followed, cackling, "What's the matter Jane? Afraid?"

"Of you?" she hissed, stopping her retreat and digging her heels into the ground. She thrust the knife toward his stomach, but he caught her wrist with his free hand, forcing her to mirror the action when he made his own attempt to stab her, "_Never._"

His smirk seemed to widen as his eyes flashed, giving her no doubt that he was actually enjoying this. She glared at him and then head butted him, the action hurting them both. He stumbled, and she broke away, lifting the blade above her head with the intent to plunge it down into him. At the last moment, he twisted away, running a good ten feet away before facing her again. "So," he said, "Still mad at me?"

"What do you think?" she snapped, and lunged again, this time aiming for his throat. He ducked, and shoved forward, his upper body knocking into her waist and forcing her to the ground. She felt a surge of panic as he towered over her, straddling her, his knife raised and ready to plunge into her. She bucked hard, dislodging him just enough so she could kick him away and scramble up to her feet again. Their eyes met, and she felt her old anger burn inside her, hotter and more maddening than she remembered. She readied herself for another attack...

And then a scream reached her ears. She gasped, recognizing the voice immediately. Suddenly all thought of Jeff faded, and she took off toward the darkened house a few spaces away.

She threw open the door and rushed in, the sight before her made her stomach twist sickly. "Mary!" she called, darting toward the figure hunched over on the ground. Dark, wavering blue and crackling yellow swirled around her, telling her just how much pain and distress she was in. She knelt beside her, placed a hand on her back, and heard a sputtering, ragged breath. "Mary, what's wrong? What happened?"

"Sh...she..." she gasped, shivering, and then coughed hard.

"She touched me." answered another voice, in monotone. Jane's head snapped up to face the speaker, and her gaze fell on a horrid sight. The woman continued, not appearing to notice the expression on the others face, "I told her to stop. She didn't, so I made her."

Jane was at a loss for words. This was undoubtedly the missing Abigail, but...but she was wrong. There was something _desperately wrong_ with her. Her aura_..._

Surrounding her entire body was a dull gray. It seeped from her body and into the air like fog. Thick, suffocating fog. There was no other color, just...grey. Even Jeff had flares of blue, orange and yellow in along with the crimson. This...there was nothing. There wasn't a trace of the pure white nor the tainted black that marked one an angel or a demon, making her obviously human. How could any human have an aura like this?

Abigail tilted her head slightly, her eyes staring into Jane's as if she were some sort of science experiment to be studied.


	17. Order And Chaos

Abby stepped into the house and closed the door behind her, wondering to herself what Jeff was doing. He takes her out for a walk, then sends her to the house alone. It wasn't normal, but she didn't mind. It was simply puzzling. She sat down against the wall on her side of the living room and waited, intending to ask the killer as soon as he got back.

Not a minute passed and she heard a shift in the floorboards. Someone entered through the kitchen. For a moment she considered if it was Jeff, but this was incredibly unlikely. Why come in through the back? She stood and faced the kitchen door. It opened, and a red haired woman stepped carefully through, as if she was doing everything she could not to make a sound. "You shouldn't be here." Abby informed her, "I must warn you this place is unsafe. You may lose your life."

The woman smiled, and stepped forward, a bit closer than would have been considered a respectable distance, "It's you," she whispered, her tone light and airy, "Oh you poor thing, I can't imagine the things you've been through. Come on, let's get you out of here before he gets back."

Abby stepped back as she reached for her arm, obviously intending to take her away from there. "I do not wish to accompany you. I am content where I am."

She frowned at her, confusion flaring across her features, "But...but you have to come." the way she said it made it sound as if she feared physical pain if she couldn't convince her to go, "You have to! He, he's_ hurting_ you. You'll die, you don't want to die do you?"

"Not especially. But I do not wish to leave, either."

"We'll protect you from him." she insisted, inching closer. Abby began to back away, an action that gave her pause and seemed to upset her more, "Abigail, please come with me. I don't know what that sick bastard has done to you, but we can help. I can help you. Don't be afraid..."

"I do not fear." she tried to explain to the intruder, "And I still do not desire your assistance. I am content here. I realize that he may kill me. I also realize that he causes me pain. I-"

"What's wrong with you?" she squeaked, her posture going from desperate reassurance to angered, "I'm trying to get you away from a freaking murderer, and you don't want to leave?"

"This is correct."

She growled, as if she were about to explode. Then, like flicking a switch, she was calm again, "Ah, I see. You have Stockholm Syndrome, yes? Then, then if I get you away from him, and I care for you, you'll want to be with me..." again she started forward, this time not stopping when the other backed away.

"Why do you wish me to be with you?" Abby asked as her back hit the wall.

The woman giggled and put both hands on her shoulders, leaning in close, their bodies so close Abby could feel the other's heat. She didn't directly answer the question, and instead moved one hand up to cup the others cheek, "You're so pretty," she crooned.

Abby reached up and gripped the others wrists, firmly pushing her away. "I am not going to accept sexual contact from you. I do not even know you."

She frowned, then smiled faintly, "I am Mary."

"I still do not know you." she stated, "And I advise you to leave now."

"Oh, you've just never been touched by a woman before." Mary said, her voice lowering to a purr. With a harsh shove, she stepped forward, pinning her again to the wall. A hand reached under her shirt, touching her stomach, "You'll enjoy it, once you get used to it."

"It doesn't matter whether you're male or female. I said I did not want this." the invading hand went lower, brushing the hem of her pants, "If you continue, I will be forced to take action." she warned.

Mary didn't listen, and slipped her fingers between the cloth and her skin. Abby acted instantly, shoving one knee up into one of the woman's legs, knocking her off balance. She pushed hard against her chest and slipped away, making to flee down the hall. Mary was fast, though, and caught her by her brace, pulling it hard enough the velcro began to tear. Abby stopped resisting, and let the other wrap her arms around her. She felt her face burry into her hair as she held her. She exhaled deeply and turned slightly, as if to face her. Then, with every ounce of strength Abby had, she drove her elbow into Mary's ribs. A shattering crack sounded, signaling that at least one of them had broken, and a shrill shriek left her as she fell to her knees on the floor. Abby darted away, thinking of leaving to search for Jeff when the front door burst open. A woman, tall, dark haired and dark clothed, ran over to Mary, kneeled next to her and called her name.

Jeff walked in quietly, though Abby's attention remained on the newcomer, "Mary, what's wrong? What happened?" she asked, panic in every word. Mary tried to answer, but couldn't.

"She touched me. I told her to stop. She didn't, so I made her." she said, more for Jeff than for her, as she guessed he was wondering as well. After answering, the woman looked up at her, and Abby found herself staring into a pair of jet black eyes. She tilted her head slightly, examining those dark orbs, looking for any trace of cornea or iris. There were none. After a long moment of silence, she voiced her observation, "You do not appear to be human."

Jeff laughed, "You think? Jane here is a demon. Jane, Abigail Addams. Abby, little Jane. Apparently, I killed her parents, and now it is her life's goal to bitch and whine about it every waking moment."

Jane snarled and stood, raising a knife she had been holding on to. "Both of you will fucking die for this."

"Oh! I'm so scared! What ya gonna do, throw a little fit?" mocked Jeff, who had to dodge an attack moments later. Abby watched the two of them ran around each other, each attempting to damage the other while avoiding taking it. After several long moments, a groan of pain brought her attention back to the woman on the floor as she slowly and painfully pulled herself up.

* * *

Mary shivered as she struggled to breath, listening to the other three as their conversation quickly turned into violence. Under the agony, she felt anger, a dark burning anger that shook her to her core and gave her the strength to stand.

Over and over the words circled through her head. Demon. Jane here is a demon. How could he? How _dare_ he?

Jane was her lovely angel, and he accused her of being a filthy demon. He had _no right_. He was the one that was demonic! Bloody murderer and his whore. Yes, _yes,_ she was no better than he. She offered that bitch her care and affection, and she rejected her in favor of a heartless killer. They deserved to die, they deserved to bathe in kerosene and be lit ablaze.

Once upright she fixed that traitor with the coldest stare she could manage. If her angel were to defeat that monster, then it was her duty to face his follower.

"You should not stand right now." came that annoying, dull, empty voice, "You'll only hurt yourself further."

"F-fuck you." she gasped, and biting back her pain, she struggled toward her.

"You need not be my enemy." she stated, backing away again, step for step.

Mary wanted to come up with some scornful comeback, but it hurt too much to do so. Instead she braced herself and lunged forward, grabbing the girl around her waist and dragging her to the floor. There was a satisfying thud as Abigail's skull made contact with the ground. She struggled, squirming, trying to get away. Mary reached up, wanting to get a hold of her hair so she could bash her into the ground again. Abigail punched her in her ribs, bringing a cry from her and forcing her to the floor again. This time the pain was nearly blinding, and she couldn't move. The other pulled herself up, and grabbed onto Mary's shoulders, making her sit. Then, she felt the woman's hands on either side of her head. Distantly, she wondered why she was in this position, and then the realization came as her head was turned first in one direction, then quickly and roughly twisted in the other.

The last thing she heard...

_Crack._


	18. Friends

Several things happened in quick succession. First, Jeff lunged at Jane again, his blade biting into her arm and adding yet another wound. Then, the woman managed to kick his feet out from under him. He grabbed the front of her dark shirt and dragged her down with him, her body landing on top of his. She rose her knife, and he snickered, feeling a little giddy. She was going to stab him, and that was going to leave her throat wide open for attack. He tightened his grip on his own blade and waited, ready to slit her throat as soon as her weapon fell...

_Crack._

The unmistakable sound of breaking bone filled the air, and instantly the knife fell from her hand onto his chest. The tip gave him a shallow cut in his hoodie, then slipped off onto the floor. The pressure of her body on his vanished as she got up and darted across the room. Stunned but not frozen, he grabbed her knife with his free hand and tossed it the opposite direction in which she'd run. He pulled himself up to his feet and turned to face the three of them. Abby had backed away and now stood near the wall. Jane crouched next to Mary, whom lay limp on the ground, her neck bent at an odd angle. Jane placed her hand on the corpse, and they seemed to dissolve. Their bodies broke apart into bits of shadow, which then disappeared completely.

Silence filled the suddenly still air, the feeling in the back of his head snarling at his victims' escape. It felt wrong, for the battle to just...end like that.

And then something clicked.

"You killed her." he said, not bothering to even try to hide the disbelief in his voice.

"She was beginning to become a bother. She was also in great pain. Breaking her neck ended both these issues." she stated, seeming to take his statement as a request for an explanation.

He felt a shiver go down his spine, and then he laughed. He laughed uncontrollably, the sound cutting through the quiet and forcing him to double over in mirth for the first time in quite a while. He laughed for so hard his sides actually began to ache from it. "Jeff?" he distantly heard her speak his name, and with some effort, he forced himself upright again and started toward her.

"A-Ab-Abby. Abi-gail, Abbs, Ab-Abby Addams." he stuttered out, going through all the different names he called her by, speaking through fits of giggles, "You, I didn't, I didn't know you had it in you."

When he reached her, he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back into the wall behind her, his head lowered to rest against her collar bone. He just held her there for a minute as he slowly got control of himself again. When he was calm again, he looked back up at her, leaning his face in close to hers. "I don't even know what to say, you're...you're the most fucked up woman I've ever met. You're more mental than Jane."

She blinked at him, and he felt a excited flutter at the thought that he might have shocked her, "I don't understand what you mean."

"You," he hissed, having to fight off another episode of laughter, "Hurt her because she touched you. You _broke her neck_ because she touched you."

"Incorrect. As I said, it was better for both her and myself for it to end that way."

"If she never laid a hand on you, would you have killed her?"

"No, but-"

"I rest my case." he reached up and brushed some hair from her face, placing it behind an ear, "She touched you, and you hurt her for it. You. Emotionless,_ unfeeling, you_. And you know what else I can't help but noticing?" he pressed himself against her, and slid his hands down to wrap around her waist, pulling her to him. They were so close he could feel every soft, warm curve of her body, "You've never done any of that crap to me. I threaten you, I dislocated your wrist and I cut you, I made you faint from blood loss because I had to drink it. And you have yet to do anything to stop me. You would let me drop you into a vat of acid without a fight, but let someone else_ touch_ you, you beat them up and snap their neck. You know what I think, Abby? I think you might actually like me."

"Like you?"

"Yes. Like me."

"But I can not feel."

"You _can_ feel, just not properly." he insisted, "Tell me, if I wanted to bend you over that table and screw your brains out, would you stop me?"

She was silent for a moment, appearing to consider the question, "No."

"But that bitch can't come near you. And, I would bet my knife that if someone else tried it you would reject them too. Why?"

"You are my friend."

"That's your reason. If I wanted to rip your organs out and paint the walls with their juices while you watched, you would let me, and that's your reason. What the fuck?"

"You are my only friend." she said this as if it should explain everything. It was his turn to give her pause, caught off guard by her statement.

"Your _only_ friend?" he asked.

"Yes. The definition of the word is a person whom accepts you for what you are. Someone that doesn't take issue with your faults and imperfections. You are the only person I have ever met that doesn't feel uncomfortable around me unless I am faking normal emotion. Therefore, you are my friend. And as such, I should attempt to make you happy. This is what friends do, yes?"

"I'm sure most people wouldn't let someone kill them because they were accepted by them, Abigail."

"Then I am doing this wrong?" she asked, her head tilted.

He shook his own, "I'm saying I think there is more here than friendship."

"You believe I may have romantic feelings for you." she guessed.

"Yes."

"Does this affect our current relationship?"

"Maybe."

"How so?"

Jeff snickered at her as images of her dismembered corpse began to slither through his mind. The feeling was still agitated from the fight, and every nerve inside him ached with the need for blood. He should leave and find a new victim, sate the lust before his playmate was put in danger of having her throat slit too early. But where was the fun in that?

Something in his head, something crimson and violent, shrieked demandingly as he reached up and grabbed her hair, roughly pulling her in for a kiss.


	19. One Level

Jane held the unmoving body of her lover close to her, the flesh still warm against her skin. She'd given up on waking her, and now could only press herself to the corpse, the pain of loss twisting her heart to the point it brought tears to her black eyes. This was her fault, completely and utterly her fault. She shouldn't have let Mary come with her, she shouldn't have let her alone with that thing. That monstrous thing that called herself Abigail, that cold, unfeeling, bitch. Jane's limbs shook with both anger and grief, and at that moment all she wanted was her Mary back...

_This can be arranged._ purred that familiar voice, that deep and cruelly soothing tone. A icy shiver went down her spine as she went completely still, _But are you willing to pay the price, little Jane?_

She loathed that he used the nickname that Jeff always used, but she wouldn't dare complain. She took a slow, deep breath and spoke as evenly as possible, "And what is the price?" she asked out loud, though quietly.

_I require the same thing as I did before, when you asked me to return your life to you. One, single, level. That's all._

He went silent, leaving her to sit there and contemplate the idea. That would put her at level three, right? She swallowed thickly, unsure of herself. Five years ago, when Jeff stabbed her in the heart, she'd made a second deal so she could avoid her fate a little longer. And, of course, to see if her plan to kill that murderer had worked, which she'd been wrong in thinking it had. After condemning herself to level two, she'd promised herself that she wouldn't make that deal again.

At the time, she hadn't thought the person she'd want revived would be the love of her life.

_The clock is ticking, make your decision. There are only moments left before it can no longer be done._

Only a few moments before her Mary was lost to her. Did she dare drag herself even further down? But then, it was her fault this happened, wasn't it? She owed this to her, for she'd be alive if it wasn't for Jane's own foolish mistake.

"Yes." she finally said.

_You want her back?_

"Yes."

_...done._

There was a sickening crackle as Mary's neck shifted and the broken shards came back together. The woman took a deep, shuttering gasp, her muscles seizing hard as if electricity had flooded through her. Then she went limp again. Still, unresponsive, but alive.

Jane was about to take her into the bedroom so she could rest, but as soon as she tried to move, she felt a dark, dry frost fill her veins. She felt cold, ice cold, and weak. She gasped at the almost unbearable sensation, her limbs trembling as she was suddenly hyper aware of each and every drop of liquid pulsing in her loves' body. She gasped and scrambled away, the urge to drain the woman scratching demandingly at the back of her head.

_Oh, did I forget to mention?_ the voice had taken on a slightly taunting quality._ Your daily need for blood has now doubled. Better get going, before you shrivel into dust._

Shock and dread stabbed at her heart at this idea. She was already having to intake the blood of several people every night just to continue living. She had to take even more now?

A dark chuckle echoed through her head, and once more he was silent.


	20. How Should I Feel?

Abby remained still and silent until Jeff's breathing softened in sleep. As carefully as she could, she worked herself free of his entangling arms, pausing whenever he showed any sign that her movements were disturbing him. It took well over an hour, as he wasn't exactly a heavy sleeper, but finally she managed to inch away from him and quietly sneak out of the room. The sun shown softly through the windows as it began to rise, which gave her just enough light to see her reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Shallow cuts criss crossed most of her stomach, a good portion of her chest, and though the mirror wasn't big enough to show it, there were several on her inner thighs. There were large black bruises forming on her neck and down her arms from where he'd bitten her. He'd been careful not to hurt her enough that she wouldn't be able to function, but her body still ached from the experience. She reached up and lightly traced the wound he'd sliced into her face, going from just under her right eye down to her chin.

After looking over the damage, she closed the door and stepped into the shower, thinking she should wash away the blood and various other bodily liquids covering her form. Because the house was supplied with only water, not electricity or gas, the stream that poured from the rusty shower head was near freezing. Her wounds burned for a moment as they were assaulted by the liquid, but they quickly numbed from the cold to the point she couldn't feel them anymore. Her taxed muscles began to tremble in effort to keep her warm, but she only closed her eyes and allowed the water to steal away her heat as it cleansed her.

What should she be feeling now, she wondered? What would a normal person be feeling? Angry? Happy? Fearful? Violated?

He'd been rough for the most part. His blade had bitten into her forty seven times, he'd bit her, and dug his nails into her sides hard enough they still bore red marks. He'd been gentle with her more sensitive areas, though, had seemed to want her body to react to him. His efforts had proven successful. Twice he'd sent the strangest sensations through her, sensations she'd never thought she'd experience.

What confused her, and had been confusing her since the night in the park, was how Jeff seemed to be trying not to kill her. He talked about it, all the various ways he could end her, but whenever he got the chance, he stopped himself. She'd watched the battle in his eyes, particularly the night before when he'd seemed to be unable to decide whether he wanted to torture her or pleasure her. Whatever that 'feeling' was that he spoke of, it urged him to fatally injure her as he'd done to many others, and he'd yet to do so. Why did he fight it?

She folded her arms over her chest, analyzing every detail in her mind, but still she came up empty. She'd no idea why he acted the way that he did, why he accused her of being able to feel when she could not. She'd asked how his accusations of her affection would affect their relationship, and he'd answered by exploring every inch of her intimately. Was the disorder in his head ruling his behavior? Was this a one time thing, or did he intend to do it again? Did he consider them a couple, or were they still murderer and victim? Did he even know, or did it change with every passing moment?

And what were her own thoughts in all this?

When this began on the night of her parents death, she'd sought only to learn of emotion, and had been willing to give her life for it. She was still willing to give her life, but was he going to take it?

As she'd said before, she'd come to consider him her friend. As his friend, she should attempt to please him. But what would make him happy, exactly? What role should she play? Should she fight, or submit?

She tilted her head back to let the water flow through her hair. She didn't wish to disappoint him. Her inability to love her own family had hurt them, and she did not wish to do the same thing to him. Yet he seemed intent on the theory that she could feel, just not as intense as everyone else felt. She was sure he was wrong, and while she'd been honest with her thoughts on this, he'd rejected them. She'd considered faking emotions for him, but he'd already proven his ability to see through this. He'd only get upset and call her a liar.

She heard the door open, and knew that he'd woken. She hadn't expected him to remain asleep long, though she would have preferred him to have done so. She didn't look at him, nor acknowledge his presence. She remembered when she'd done this to her mother not that long ago, waiting for her to announce her presence before acting. She counted the seconds as they ticked by, waiting to see how long it would take. Ten, twenty, thirty. A full minute passed, and he did nothing. She kept her eyes closed, still pretending that she didn't feel his unwavering gaze on her. Two minutes, then three, then five. She realized that they both had the same goal of waiting for the other to move. She inhaled deeply and then exhaled.

"Yes?" she asked, finally opening her eyes and looking over at him. After having them closed for so long, everything seemed so bright. His face almost seemed to glow for moment until her eyes adjusted to the light.

"You disappeared." he said, leaning forward, his face as close to hers as it could be without entering the icy stream running over her, "Why are you in here?"

"I haven't showered since I left home."

"You've been in here almost an hour."

"You were awake?"

"Only after I noticed you were gone. It's cold in there, and my pillow left me." he reached down and turned the water off, "You're going to make yourself sick. You'd better not be trying to off yourself before I kill you."

"I don't intend to." she reached up with her trembling hands to wring the water out of her hair. Mate? Friend? Murderer? In what position his he see himself in? "Jeff?" she started. She decided to ask her earlier question, because she wasn't sure if he saw their relationship as any one particular thing. The way he acted, it was as if his opinion of her shifted constantly. So, better to ask him something she was sure he wouldn't change his mind about ten seconds after answering it, "How should I be feeling? Right now, how would I feel, if I could?"

He seemed to consider it for a moment. Then he stepped into the bathtub with her, his hands gripping her shoulders to pin her back against the wall. He pressed his body close, the heat melting from his skin into hers. "How should you feel?" he growled deeply. He lowered his head to her neck and ran his tongue over one of the bruises he'd caused, "Sick. Your stomach should be twisting when you think about it, and if you dwell on it, you have to fight to keep from throwing up. You should be frightened of the fact that we might do it again. Terrified of the idea, in fact. But through all this, you can't bring yourself t regret it." he nipped at her earlobe, softly at first, then harder, her nerves crying out at the pressure.

Finally, he moved away, stepping back out of the tub, "Now then," he said, "Let's get you dry and warm before you get a cold or some crap like that."

She nodded and followed him out of the room. They went to the living room, where he picked up his hoodie and had her put it on. They sat down side by side against the wall, and she looked over at him. "Jeff?"

"Mmm?"

"If it makes me feel ill, then why would I not regret it?"

He just laughed at her.


	21. Confusion

Jeff pressed his body against Abby's, pulling his hoodie tighter around her quivering form. She'd be lucky if she didn't catch a cold, doing that. Who goes and spends an hour in an ice cold shower like that? Really...

Maybe he'd pushed her a little too far that night.

The feeling shuddered in his head, still not satisfied even after what he'd done to her. But at least it had calmed to a reasonable, manageable level. She was safe, for the moment. Physically, at least. He thought perhaps he'd traumatized her, despite her claim at being unable to feel. She didn't seem frightened, but something was different. She wanted to know how she should feel, and he'd told her what he thought would be a very reasonable response to what happened.

He pressed the side of his face to the side of hers, her damp hair trapped inbetween their cheeks. Slowly, her icy body began to melt, her shuttering easing to softer trembles, then fading altogether. The minutes ticked by, and he could feel her begin to fall asleep where she say. It'd been a long night, after all. They both needed some rest.

He glanced at the window, gazing distantly for a moment at the sunlight streaming through the cracked glass. The sun had finally risen fully. It was far past the time they usually went to bed.

He looked down at the floor and adjusted his hold on her, his arm letting go of her shoulder in favor or linking with her own. He leaned a little more onto her, using the crook of her neck as a pillow almost, and let his eyes unfocus. He couldn't sleep without the rag to simulate closed eyelids, but he could relax a little.

She'd take even longer to heal now, though he'd been careful not to reopen the stab wound. He'd also made sure that each cut he'd given her hadn't gone too deep, or severed anything vital. Yet the blood loss couldn't have helped any, neither the strain on her muscles while she still recovered.

Maybe he should take more victims every night. Ensure the feeling was sated before returning to her. He had to be more careful.

He didn't want to kill her...

_Yet_, he added, though it was an afterthought.

The woman he was laying on jerked suddenly, as if she'd been on the verge of sleep and felt like she was falling. He chuckled softly, amused. She was human, even if she was almost completely emotionless...

Except, her body didn't calm after a few seconds, as it should have. She grew more tense, her breath halting in her throat. Slightly alarmed, he pulled away to look at her. Her eyes were wide, but cloudy. Her lower lip was being pressed firmly between her teeth. She almost looked...afraid? But that didn't seem right.

"Abby?" he said, trying to draw her out of it. Did she get herself lost in her own thoughts again? No, no she didn't. As soon as he spoke her name, her focus shifted onto him, and her eyes widened further. He caught a high pitched noise escape her, a squeal? And then she shoved at him, pulling herself up onto her feet and darting away, to the other side of the room. By the time he got up, she'd bulled his knife out, and held it out defensively.

He tilted his head, not trying to approach just yet. He was confused. While he was certain she could feel something, to see her display fright so suddenly was...odd, especially considering that everything had been calm. He could understand, even appreciate it if they'd been fighting, but... "Hey," he said, cocking his head slightly to one side. She flinched, she actually fucking flinched at that, "We're not playing right now. You don't have to freak out. Besides, do you really think you'd be better at using that thing than me?"

She gave him a look that contrasted with everything he'd learned about her thus far, and stepped back, her grip on the blade shaking. "I don't..." she started, her voice wavering, then cracking and and cutting off, hitching into a different sound.

All at once her posture changed. The arm holding the weapon dropped to her side, the edges around her eyes softened, and her mouth twisted into a...smile? And then a laugh came. A bubbly, giddy laugh that grew in intensity, to something that sounded near hysterical. "I-I don't, I-" she tried again, her free hand moving to hold her ribs. "I don't-know-, w-what's-" she slowly forced the words out between fits.

This made him even more confused, she didn't know what was happening? Deciding to wait and see how this unfolded, he folded his arms, leaned back against the wall, and watched her.

It didn't take too long. The frantic giggles died slowly away, again dissolving into something else. Sobs. The woman began to cry. Empty, broken wails breaking the silence as she collapsed on the floor, wetting his already stained hoodie as she buried her face in the sleeves. What the fuck? She'd gone from terror, to mirth, to despair in record time.

Was she on her period? He was _not_ going to deal with this shit every month.

Eventually, she became quiet again. She pulled the cloth away and brushed her fingers over her damp cheeks, examining the salty liquid that coated them. He felt a rush of relief when he saw that her expression was once again neutral. Yes, he wanted her to feel, but...not like that. It seemed wrong.

She stood, her gaze focusing on the knife still in her hand. She looked as puzzled about this as he did. "This hasn't happened before, has it?" he asked, already sure of the answer.

She shook her head once.


	22. Bedside Discussion

_**AN: Just to be clear, and avoid confusion, this chapter takes place DURING the last chapter. I just wanted to be clear on that.**_

_**As always, thank you all for your wonderful reviews. Thank you everyone, for taking the time to read this story. So much, thank you.**_

* * *

Jane sighed as she gazed down at her sleeping lover, hurt and angered over what had happened that night. After suffering her loss at the hands of the killer yet again, she'd doomed herself to a lower level of hell, and then was forced to gorge herself on the blood of five people. She'd counted them, memorized their faces, took in their screams. Every person she killed was because of Jeff, and she would make him pay for their lives. Guilt only fueled her rage, deepened her lust for vengeance. Not to mention how absolutely furious she was at the girl, Abigail. She'd killed the only person she'd come to care about since the murder of her parents, and...

And Mary still hadn't woken up.

She sighed, her rage turning to sadness. It had been hours since Mary had been pulled back from the dead, and she'd yet to move. She'd watched the sun slowly rise through the bedroom window, sitting at her bedside, holding her hand, and still she did not move.

If she ever lay her hands on those two...

At this thought, his voice came into her head again, sudden and startling, nearly making her fall out of her seat.

_Still agitated? You're going to have high blood pressure if you keep this up._

"Why isn't she awake?" she whispered out loud.

He chuckled, the sound making her skin prickle coldly, _Do not fear...she will rise, in time. The subject I wished to speak to you about however, is that of the two you faced earlier. They hurt you, so you wish to hurt them. Isn't that right, Jane?_

"Yes,"

_Well, you know I can help with that. For a price, of course._

"One level?"

_Now your getting it...the question is, little Jane, how do you want to hurt them?_

"I want the fucking house to cave in on them."

_Oh, no no no. You're thinking too small, my dear. Far too small. You want this to be slow, painful, yes?_

She didn't answer, and he took it as a sign for him to continue.

_Think deeper, focus on the foundation, and the whole thing will tumble down, falling apart at the seams. Jeff and Abby have an interesting relationship indeed, you see. Their...friendliness, mostly depends on her, how she reacts to his actions. Isn't there something wrong with Abby, Jane? You remember her aura, right?_

"Yes...it was grey. Nothing but grey."

_Yes. There was no anger. Or happiness, or sadness. Not even a flicker of orange as she snapped darling Mary's neck. What does this mean?_

She considered it for a moment, then, "She isn't human?"

_She's defiantly human. But she lacks a certain something..._

No anger. No happiness, no sadness, no excitement, nothing. "She...she can't feel?"

_Not a thing, except of course curiosity. And, envy...jealousy of those who can, not that she even knows she feels it. Jane, have you ever seen the animals on TV? The lions and their prey? The lions chase, the terrified zebra flees. The lions get more aggressive, and then the zebra's life ends. Now, what happens if the zebra doesn't run away, just sits there?_

Again, she didn't answer, so he went on.

_The predators instinct to hunt falters, and they don't hurt the animal immediately. Or at all, in come cases. In fact, there was once a lioness that adopted a young antelope because of this. It died later...killed by another lion. You see?_

"Jeff won't hurt her because she doesn't fear him?"

_Oh, no, he hurts her. He hurts her constantly, but he won't kill her. Think about it, if she could feel, it would be painful for them both. She's seen many people die. Including her own parents. The shock and guilt would be enough to drive anyone insane, not to mention someone who never had a chance to learn how to deal with the various emotions of everyday life. And Jeff would be forced to watch this decline, possibly even be forced to take her life as well. And all you have to do for this to happen, little Jane, is ask._

"And go down another level." she answered, "I don't think so..."

_You're going to burn anyway, what's another, tiny, little level? And besides, imagine how it would feel to watch his pain when he's forced to gut his only friend...here, I'll make it easy for you. 'Abby will feel everything, in exchange for one level.' Now you need only say a single word._

She frowned, gripping Mary's hand just a little tighter. She shouldn't. It was tempting, but she really, really shouldn't...

_Say it. Say it, and watch them suffer. Make Abby feel every bit of hurt you felt when she snapped your loves neck._

"...accepted."

_Done._


	23. Dream

Abby pulled her shirt back on, completing the nurses outfit she wore once again. She'd insisted on giving Jeff his hoodie and knife back, simply so that he was armed and she was not. She did not like what had happened. One moment, she was starting to drift into slumber, the next, she...felt.

From what she'd observed of others, she'd experienced fear, followed by happiness, and finally despair. None of those things she wished to feel again. She wanted to feel, yes, but this seemed wrong. Humans did not normally go throughout their day randomly screaming and cackling for no reason. Perhaps it was because she'd never had emotions before, and she didn't know how to process them. It seemed a reasonable explanation, but that didn't answer her other question.

How did it happen? This wasn't a disorder that could just fix itself. Part of her brain was missing.

"Maybe my expert moves woke something inside you?" Jeff asked in a light voice as he too redressed. He was joking, she thought, though she turned to face him anyway. He didn't appear to think much of the odd occurrence, so if she'd offended him at all, he was doing well at hiding it. She, on the other hand, had found herself rather...disturbed might have been a good word for it, though not a good description of her current thoughts. She could have hurt him during her strange fit, and she disliked this idea immensely.

"I doubt it." she responded, choosing to answer under the assumption that he was even slightly serious with the question, "The reproductive organs are not connected to the brain in any way. No matter how skilled you are, it would not affect the core of who I am."

He snorted, a sound that she couldn't be sure was amused or upset, "Well then, what else could have caused this?"

She shook her head slightly, "I've no idea. It shouldn't have happened. I don't understand."

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you were frightened." he noted, moving to fold his arms across his chest. His smile didn't seem to fit his tone of voice. Of course, there'd been several times since they'd met that the grin carved into his face mismatched his mood. Particularly when he'd been close to killing her, yelling, irrational, but smiling all the while.

"I do not fear. Yet, I do not enjoy this, either."

"Hmm." he shrugged and grabbed his rag, moving toward the bathroom to wet it. When he came back, he continued, "I think you might be tired. Rest. It was probably a one time thing, nothing to bother with." he sat down on his side of the room, obviously getting ready to go back to sleep. Was he trying to comfort her? That was odd. But then, he wasn't just her would be killer, was he?

She sighed, and lay down opposite him, deciding that perhaps following his suggestion would be best. Unless it happened again, she could not study it. As long as Jeff continued to be in control, it would not prove to be a danger. Therefore, she could ignore it for the time being. Hopefully, if it happened again, she could learn to control it.

She closed her eyes and waited.

The next thing she knew, she was floating. No, floating wasn't the best word for it. She was...falling slowly. Her eyes fluttered open again, and all she could see was inky black around her. Oddly enough, her body was still visible, and almost seemed to be glowing in the darkness. She looked around, finding no clue of where she was. And then...her back touched something solid. She was gently laid on a soft, smooth surface. She blinked, and in the time it took for her lids to close and reopen, her surroundings had shifted.

She sat up in her bed, the four, white walls of her room encircling her, almost blinding after seeing nothing but liquid shadows for several minutes. This was rather strange. She'd just been with Jeff, in the abandoned house, trying to sleep. This...had to be a dream. There was no other explanation that she could think of.

The room was as she remembered, with two noticeable exceptions. There was now yellow police tape covering her open door, and the windows. She could expect every entrance into the house and every doorway was lined with that tape, considering what had happened. The other thing she noticed when she stood and did a quick sweep of her room, searching for any other differences.

One of her pillows was missing it's case.

This was an odd dream to say the least. She could understand the tape, it was only logical to imagine that after the death of her parents. But the pillow case? What was the importance of that? Not to mention how extremely vivid this was for a dream...

All at once, her heart skipped a beat, and then doubled it's pace, pounding hard in her chest. What if she were dying? What if Jeff killed her in her sleep and this was her last thoughts as she faded away? They say your dying dream would always be clearer than any other, to the point that it was almost impossible to tell the difference between the images and real life. This could be her last moments before...

Jeff...she would miss him. Tears welled up in the corners of her eyes, the frantic, anxious feeling fading only to be replaced by a suffocating grip around her entire being. It wasn't fair, he was her friend, he was going to kill her. She didn't want to leave him...she sank to the floor, her knees pulled up to her chest as she sobbed quietly into them.

What was happening to her? What in the world was this? Why did she have to feel like this? A low growl cane from her throat, and she noticed a dull pain in her arms. She was digging her nails hard into her own skin, her chest burning. She tightened her grip, hard enough to leave marks. The inner fire eased, and then vanished altogether. Once more, she was empty. Exhaling heavily, she stood, wiping the wetness from her face.

Fear. Sadness. Anger. The second time this happened. Apparently, it was not going to be a one time occurrence.

"No, it's not." the deep, male voice cooed, drawing her attention back to the bed behind her. There was a man, sitting there on the edge. His short, slicked back hair clashed with his pale skin. Not quite so ghostly looking as Jane, more like a normal human that didn't get enough sun. He wore a red outfit, too casual to be considered a suit, but not flashy enough to be considered business attire, either. He stood, and stepped around the corner of the bed so there was nothing but air between them. She noticed in his hands he held what appeared to be a wad of burnt cloth.

She cautiously moved backwards, toward the door. "Who are you?" she asked.

He chuckled lowly, twisting the fabric lightly in his grasp, nearly tearing the more fragile areas. "What matter is my name to you, dear Abby? I would think that your current mental state might be of more importance right now, don't you?"

She took another step back, "How do you know about that?"

He shrugged, "I know many things. I know if this doesn't get fixed, you're going to face quite a lot of problems. Namely, loss of control over your own self. I know that I could help you."

"How could you help me?"

His lips twisted into a smile, "Simply adjust your emotions to a more tolerable level. That is all. Of course, I would need something in exchange."

"And what is that?"

He shook his head, still smiling, "That can be worked out later."

"Then no." she answered, taking yet another step back. By this time, she was almost at the door.

If her refusal bothered him in the slightest, he did not show it. "I understand. No, really, I do. But I also thing you might change your mind latter."

"I think you are wrong."

"That's because you don't know how horrifying this issue is going to be. If you wait, it'll only get worse. I'm offering you a way past all that, dearest Abby."

"And I'm saying no." she said, "I do not know you. I do not know what you want. You might make things worse."

He laughed lowly at that, "I see. Then, I will be seeing you later, to ask if you've changed your mind. Here, this rightfully belongs to you." he tossed the cloth in his hands to her.

She caught it, her eyes shifting from him to the dusty fabric. She unrolled it, and found that it was, in fact, her pillowcase. Badly burnt, but still recognizable. She looked up again to find his face only inches from her own. At this distance, she could see his eyes clearly, and her breath halted in her chest. They were deep, crimson red. This was in no way a natural color...

And then there was a rushing feeling, colors flying by her at a dizzying rate. Her body jolted, and she opened her eyes, gasping for air on the floor of the abandoned house. It took several seconds for her to realize where she was, and even so she couldn't calm the pounding of her heart. She'd never had a dream like that before...

She sat up, and found that the pillowcase was still in her hands. 


	24. Not Possible

Jeff stretched, his muscles flexing almost painfully under the skin, stiff from his constant sleeping on the floor. As he slowly slipped from the liquid darkness, he became aware of a burning pain in the back of his head. A low groan escaped him, the feeling flaring with a vengeance. His hands clenched into trembling fists as he fought the urge to get up and find relief in the woman he knew to be in the room with him. It took several long moments of deep breathing for the man to calm himself enough that he could get out of the house without harming his roommate further. He stood, keeping a hand up to hold the rag over his eyes, least he see her and be unable to help himself.

He preferred not to hunt too close to his current living space, but he didn't have much of a choice at this point. His hoodie up, his hands in his pockets, one wrapped tightly around his knife, he approached the first human he saw. A young couple, walking hand in hand down the street. They heard his approaching footsteps, and turned to face him.

"Hey!" the man said, a nervous edge to his voice. "W-what do you want? Back off...dude, I'm warning you!" panic rose as the weapon was pulled. The girl screamed and ran off, the man balled his fist and rather pathetically tried to punch Jeff in the face.

The blade sunk into his stomach and dragged upwards to his chest. Jeff roughly pulled it back out and shoved him to the ground. A strained, gurgled cry came from him as the knife raised, plunging into his neck. Fear and desperation flashed through his frantically moving eyes, the mortally wounded man realizing his immanent death.

Jeff didn't take the time to revel in this kill, instead he yanked the metal from the oozing flesh and hurried after the girl. He caught up to her quite easily, and tackled her to the ground. He laughed lowly, straddling the poor thing as she struggled pitifully against him. "Looks like someone doesn't get enough exorcize." he remarked, pressing the knife up to her chin. Instantly, she stilled, her terrified eyes locking onto his. They widened, and a half shriek came from her as she took in his appearance. He realized that his hod had fallen down. He growled, pressing the blade harder into her flesh.

"Please, stop, I'll do anything-" she started.

"You know, I'm tired of everyone screaming at my face. Doesn't anyone, _anyone_ find it beautiful at all?"

"Please, please don't kill me." she whimpered, wincing as the knife bit into her neck.

"_Shh._" he hushed her, twisting the blade so that the tip was pointed toward the top of her head, "Just go to sleep."

She screamed, but he ignored her cries as he shoved his knife through her lower jaw, sinking it though the soft flesh and up into the roof of her mouth. He pulled it downward, slicing through her throat and ending just above her collar bone. This time he was given the pleasure of watching his victim fade, the pain in her gaze, dulling as she drowned in her own life's blood. Her muscles seized once, and then she went still.

He remained there for a good minute, staring at the glazed over orbs. The feeling, the tugging in the back of his mind, lessened considerably. But... he shook his head and stood, leaving her there on the ground for someone else to find.

He returned to the house moments later, forgoing getting something for them to eat as he could feel the wetness of the blood all over him. He was a mess again, wasn't he? Not that it mattered. He paused, finding that the woman he'd expected to be laying against the wall wasn't there. Instead, she was in the far corner, curled up into a tight ball. "Abby?" he asked, and she flinched. Was she freaking out again?

Quietly, he drew closer, and knelt in front of her. "Are you alright?"

"Yesss..." she answered, drawing the word out as she looked up at him, "Not for long..."

"Why?"

She snorted, a sound that sounded strange coming from her. "This came from my room."

She uncurled enough to hold out a ruined piece of cloth, which he took. She pulled her limbs tighter to herself once more, her face pressed to her knees as she just sat there, quivering.

He inspected the cloth, discovering quickly that it was a pillow case. "How did you get it?" he asked, confused. Did she go to her house, grab it, burn it, then come back? That idea was just ridiculous.

She looked up at him again, and he noticed how tiny her pupils were. The way she held herself, her quickened breath...she was afraid. But that fear contrasted starkly with the smile that stretched her face, hard enough that he was certain that it hurt. Her eye twitched a couple times, and then she answered, still using that odd breathy tone, "I don't know...a man gave it to me, but he wasn't really here...so this shouldn't be here..." a bubbly, erratic laugh escaped, "I don't understand."

The fuck?

He sighed, and moved forward, his arms wrapping around her, his hand lightly running over her back. Last time this happened, she'd gone back to normal after a while. Maybe if he could keep her calm long enough, it would happen again.

Seconds ticked by, with him holding her as she tried to keep herself together. Every so often she would shake hard with either a giggle or a sob, but otherwise she did nothing else. He had hoped this crap wasn't permanent, but apparently it was.

Eventually, she relaxed. He pulled away and they both stood up. "Okay," he said, not bothering to even try and hide the edge in his voice, "Now, tell me what this is again?"

She blinked at him, her head tilted, frowning lightly. This seemed different than her usual frown, actual upset hidden underneath the distant calm. "I had a dream, and a man gave this to me. I was holding it when I woke up. This is something that should not be possible."

"Huh." he said thoughtfully. "Looks like something's stalking you...hope it isn't that bastard from the woods, but then this doesn't sound like him."

"Who?"

He shook his head. "The less you know about him, the better, Abby Addams."


	25. Burn

Days passed, and Abby saw a disturbing pattern form in her own mind. For a few hours, she'd be her normal self, as she'd been since she was born. Then, something stirred in her mind. Sometimes it was joy, and sometimes it was anger. Occasionally, two emotions flashed through her at once. Anger and happiness, joy and fear. These conflicting things came and went at random, however...they were becoming more and more common, and they were starting to last longer each time. Jeff was normally there to assist her in working through it, surprisingly enough. For the entire week that went by after the incident with Jane, neither of them had mentioned her impending demise. In fact, unless he was offering her food, or calming her during one of her episodes, he didn't say anything to her. She rather disliked that idea, but she figured there was something that he was having to deal with himself. She had an idea of what it was, though.

The thing that made him kill, the bloodlust that seemed to force him to act. By this time, she knew there had to be something there, something in his head that drove him. It appeared to be worsening. She thought perhaps he avoided too much interaction with her, because he was fighting not to end her.

Why was that? Why would he keep her alive? Again, she thought perhaps he was developing romantic feelings for her, but then again, she still theorized that he saw her in a forever changing light. Perhaps, what he was fighting was to keep her in the role of a friend, as opposed to the normal everyday victim they'd started at. But then, this was speculation at best. She still couldn't say for sure what was going on in the killers head.

It was daylight again, and the both of them lay once more on the floor. Jeff had fallen asleep some time ago, but Abby had not. She'd been trying, but something seemed off. Most likely a blip in her mind, due to all the various new emotions flooding through it. Yet, at the moment, she was calm. She exhaled, sighed, deeply. And rolled over from her side onto her back, an arm draped over her eyes to block out the sunlight. She continued the content, patent waiting game, though it appeared to be getting her nowhere.

_Poor little Abby. Can't sleep? Here, allow me to help..._

She jumped at the voice, making to sit up, but something seemed to grab her. She was dragged downward, the darkness closing in around her, liquid yet breathable. It was like before, but more forceful. Not painful, not even suffocating, but by no means comfortable.

Her eyes opened, and she was on her bed. She sat up, focusing on the familiar shape of the man she'd seen in her dream before. He had his back to her, still wearing the casual red outfit of his. "There," he said, turning his head to look over his shoulder at her. A single crimson orb locked onto her face, shimmering like liquid. "You're sound asleep. Can't say you'll feel any better when you wake up, though."

"Why did you bring me here again?" she asked, "I'm still saying no, therefore there is no reason for me to be here."

"Oh? Can't I simply be nice? You did wish for sleep, did you not?"

She shook her head, "I was waiting for sleep. There was no express desire for it to come."

He snorted, "Come now, dear. Please. You aren't the featureless rock you used to be. I know exactly what you were feeling. I know your issue is getting worse. And, I know that you worry about your boyfriend, though you can't quite put it in words yet. Am I wrong?"

She chose to remain silent. He chuckled lowly, and stood, turning to face her properly. "Come. Let's take a walk, discuss things. What have you to lose?"

She considered the question for a moment. She too stood, but shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere. If you want to talk, we can do it here."

He smiled, drawing closer, his hands politely behind his back. "Very well. Won't you reconsider your decision? You do realize this is going to hurt you in the long run. Already, you're losing control of your actions. Do you not fear harming your beloved?"

She tilted her head, "Jeff is not my 'beloved.'"

"Isn't he though?" the man mirrored her movement, now close enough to touch her.

She shook her head, "I can not love."

"You can now."

She folded her arms over her chest, suddenly feeling on edge. She looked away, taking a few steps back to get once more out of his reach. Her back hit the wall, and she found herself pressing into it, as if it would fade and she could flee from this situation. "I will not agree to something I do not know the cost of."

He was in front of her, moving quicker than she could see. Now he was close enough she could feel his body heat, his presence sent an icy shiver down her back. "You're afraid." he noted casually, leaning closer. She lowered her head further, every nerve suddenly crying out that she not look into those blood filled eyes of his. This man was wrong, he was...

Her thoughts cut off at the sensation of a hand under her chin. He pulled her face upwards, their gazes meeting. Another tremor went through her, and she couldn't move, couldn't look away. He spoke again, his voice low, soothing, her body melting at the sound. "You don't have to be frightened of me. Just trust me. Trust me."

A light sound came from her, almost a moan. She was only distantly aware of the curves of her own body. The only sensation she was aware of was the liquid heat pooling within her, dulling everything else. It was like stepping into a hot shower, but this struck her to her very core. "I will lesson your emotions, make life so much more bearable for you, and all you have to do is be mine. Easy. Just one word, darling Abby. Say, 'accepted.' Say it."

"A..." she started, biting down on her tongue to keep it in. This wasn't right. What was he... it was so hard to think...she couldn't even feel her canines sink into her own flesh, though she knew it must have been happening for she could taste the metallic substance leaking into her mouth.

"Say it, dear." he pressed, leaning in close to touch their foreheads together. His breath was hot and sweet, like cinnamon. And his eyes were so beautiful. How could she refuse? But, something was still off.

"A...nhh..." the world grew fuzzy, to the point where everything was a incomprehensible blur and the only thing she could properly see were two red pools. He exhaled as she took a breath, her mind swimming from the scent.

No.

"No!" she shrieked as she put her hands to his chest. She braced herself against the wall and shoved him as hard as she could away. All at once, whatever he'd been doing to her faded, leaving her feeling so cold she was shivering. "Who are you? What are you?" she asked, her voice raising several octaves from the shock of what had just happened. Everything was sharp, clear, the adrenaline pulsing into her veins.

He laughed, his tone deepening, going from friendly and casual to a darker, mocking sound. "You're a smart girl, aren't you? Why don't you guess?"

The room changed, the colors becoming dull, then everything started cracking, as if the walls were rotting. Red seeped out from the cracks, the air heating up quickly as it dripped to the ground. Lava, she realized, though it seemed impossible. It was as "Pity you didn't say yes. I'll have to teach you a lesson now..." his form darkened, vanishing into shadows that retreated under the closed door.

_Until next time, Abigail._

The room continued to dissolve around her. Panicking, she attempted to open the door, leave the same way he did, but it was locked. By then most of the floor was covered in the bubbling magma, singeing her skin from just being too close. She retreated to center of the quickly shrinking circle, her eyes darting around the room in desperation of some way to escape. But there was none...

The floor gave out from under her. She was falling, her house vanishing altogether and leaving her to plummet toward a sea of fire. The heat was nearly unbearable, and the woman curled up as she fell in an instinctual attempt to protect her face from the flames.

She hit the bottom of the pit, and screamed as she was enveloped.

"Abby! Abbs, wake up."

She opened her eyes, only to close them again, a faint image of Jeffs' face flashing through the black as she struggled up off the floor. "Abby Addams," he said trying to get her to calm down. His hand lightly gripped her shoulder, and she stepped away, her back grazing the wall behind her.

Agony burned her entire being, and another shriek tore at her throat as she flung herself away from the rough surface behind her. Her eyes still closed, she tripped and fell back to the floor, a hysterical sob rolling out of her as she tried to will herself through the pain. A low gasp reached her ears, and distantly she heard Jeff's words, spoken with an air of disbelief.

"What the fuck happened to your back?"


	26. Help

She was crying. Abby was in so much pain, that she was crying. Jeff stared at her trembling form, pathetic whimpers seeping from her as her skin dripped from her. The nurses uniform she wore barely clung onto her by thin strands of fabric, the edges seared black. Her back, from her shoulders all the way to her waist, was scorched. It was as if an open flame had been held to her and kept there, until the damage had reached the bone underneath. It was bad, it was worse than the burn he'd suffered so long ago. He touched his face, the smooth, almost leathery texture moving easily under his fingers. He remembered it, the fight that little dick head had forced him into. It had been painful, but it hadn't been a third degree burn. It hadn't warranted skin graphs.

Abby was going to need skin graphs.

He shook his head, mentally arguing with himself. No, no she wouldn't. He'd cared for her other injuries, he could care for this one.

He'd never hurt her that badly, though. This was an raw, open wound that spanned over a large area of her body. It was going to get infected if it wasn't taken care of, and it needed to be handled by professionals.

He could cut the infection out, maybe?

This was going to kill her.

He swallowed thickly, his throat feeling far too dry. The feeling was back again, and he felt the urge to drag his nails over her burn. To make it bleed, to hear her screams. He stepped away from her, backing toward the door. "Um, Okay." he started, his voice wavering from the strain of not hurting her further, "I'm going to get something to help you. Stay here."

No response, could she even think enough to hear him at that point? What the fuck happened, anyway? She couldn't have burnt herself, couldn't have been burned by anyone without him noticing. Her odd little stalker she'd mentioned before, the one that had given her the pillowcase...at first he'd thought it was that bastard Slendy, but he'd had his doubts. This clenched it; whomever did this, it was not the Slender Man. He'd have to ask her to describe the man later, for now he needed to deal with this.

He stepped outside, pulling his hood up over his head. He closed the door behind him, taking a moment to decide on what to do. He knew what was needed, but everything in him demanded him not to do it. He sighed, and started away. She would die by his hand, and not some Kruger wannabe in her dreams.

Minutes later, he was back at the house, dragging a fresh kill with him. The man had been washing his car, alone. Jeff was almost disappointed at how easy it had been. He lay the corpse in front of the door, and then dug his fingers into the gaping hole in it's neck. Gathering the blood, he began to paint the words onto the old wood.

GO TO SLEEP

Once that was done, he reached into the man's pocket, and pulled out his cell phone. He held the small, silvery device for a long moment, his unblinking gaze taking in every detail.

He opened it, and dialed the number. Three simple keys, a nine, a one, and another one. Then the little green button. He lifted the phone to his ear and waited patently. Someone answered on the second ring.

"Hello!" greeted an annoyingly cheerful female voice. He almost growled in disgust, "Nine-one-one. Might I ask what your emergency is?"

Weren't these people supposed to take their jobs seriously? Really, this sounded like a prep fresh out of school. Time to bring her down a peg or two... "Hello," he crooned lowly, "My name is Jeff. You know, I don't like all these stories that are being aired, but oh well. It's not like any of you could catch a demon of my caliber." he waited, wanting to see if she caught the hint.

"Um, this is an emergency channel, sir, not a pranking service." she answered, a slight nervousness peaking through. Good.

"Oh, this isn't a prank, I assure you." he said, chuckling lowly, "I thought we could play a little game. Remember that girl I snagged, miss Abigail Addams? I have her here with me. Oh, keeping someone around was fun for a little while, but now it's just boring."

Silence came from the other line. He counted to ten, and when she still didn't answer, he continued, "So, let's get something interesting going. I'm going to put her to sleep, slowly," a low snicker, meant to send a shiver through the girl on the other end, "And you will try to beat me to it."

"Ah, you...you can't! L-leave the poor thing alone."

He rolled his eyes. Had no one bothered to train her? "Oh, I can, and I will. Have you even bothered to start tracking this call yet? Worthless, aren't you? Not that it matters to me, it'll just give me more time to listen to her wonderful cries... oh, look at the time, have to go."

"No! No, ah, don't-" he ignored her, putting the phone on the guy's chest, keeping the call connected so the line could be traced. What were they thinking, hiring a air head like her? She should have tried to keep his attention, started tracking his position as soon as he stated who he was. How long was it going to take for anyone to actually show up and help Abby, huh? He bet the little bitch hadn't even started trying yet. He hoped they stated her name in the next news broadcast, because oh, was he going to be eager to pay her a visit if they did.

Shaking his head, he snuck away, finding a place to hide and wait across the street. Twenty minutes passed before he heard the sirens.

He stared away, slinking through the spaces between houses and hurrying away from the scene. They were going to help her, but they weren't going to do any good for him. He cursed to himself silently, knowing that there was no way he could go to the hospital to get her back. He didn't even know which hospital he should go to, considering the last one she'd been to had been shut down after his killing spree.

The second closest one was several miles away, he thought. He still couldn't go there, they'd be on their guard for sure. He'd have to wait until she was released.

For now, he needed to kill again. It was funny, almost, how many more lives he had to take after meeting that strange woman.


	27. Inhuman

Jane sighed as she closed the door behind her, entering Mary's house once more and slipping into the kitchen. Her love still had not woken, no matter what she had done. He had assured her that the woman would indeed wake, but she was beginning to doubt this. She should have been up and about by then. She should have had her Mary back days ago.

She fixed herself a glass of water, using the cool substance to try and wash away the sickly sweet blood of an alcoholic from her mouth. He'd been drunk, so much so that he'd been unaware of the pain as he was hung upside down and bled dry little by little. Disgust with herself rose like bile in her throat. The man had just become a father, she'd found out as he'd rambled on almost incoherently. Whomever that baby was, it was now going to grow up without a dad, and the mother was going to raise it without a husband. This hurt her, stirring up even more self loathing than she normally felt. If Jeff wasn't still alive, she would have happily done away herself in the most painful way possible. Fill the tub up with kerosene, and get in with a lit match, perhaps? She'd read it in a book a long time ago, and it sounded fitting for what she was.

Besides, Mary would be better off without her anyway. She'd died because of her...

A noise upstairs drew her out of her quiet self abuse, drawing her attention to the place where her lover lay. It sounded like she'd fallen off the bed. Not bothering to take the time to run up the flight of stares, she vanished from where she stood and reappeared in the bedroom.

What she saw nearly stopped her heart.

Mary, her precious, innocent Mary, wan on her hands and knees, on the floor, gasping for breath. She sounded like a wounded animal in it's last moments of life. Her aura...was black. Solid, inky, black. It matched her own.

"What-?" she gasped, backing into the wall. Tears began to gather in her eyes. Not this, anything but this. Mary didn't deserve the same fate as her.

_I had to make a few minor adjustments, you see. he said, matter of fact, Couldn't bring her back as a human. Long, boring explanation. Oh, don't worry, she's still going to the same place she was before, save for one level. That was her choice though. She wanted to know where dear Abby was when she woke up. Speaking of, the two of you need to watch the news tonight._

She shook her head, finding her voice again, "What do you mean? She wasn't going to...to..."

_Oh, but she was. Or do you not know that worshiping a demon such as yourself is a sin? Because it is. A rather big one at that._

"But she didn't-" she started, her voice wavering and the cracking off as she realized it was true. The way she acted when she was away, freaking out if she left without notice. Her over attachment, her willingness to do anything at all to please her...no. No.

_Didn't you know? She felt more than just romantic feelings for you, little Jane._ he said, rubbing salt in the already painful wound.

A high pitched wail pierced the air, her love screaming in agony as the breaking of bone sounded. "What's happening to her?" she asked in despair.

_You chose what you are, she did not. You chose for her, indirectly. You tainted her, and then you asked for her back. She is now also a demon, but a lesser one than you. An imp compared to a Minotaur, for example._

Several bulges appeared on Mary's back, two under her shoulders and one on her lower back, at the base of her spine. There was a ripping sound, the smell of blood becoming thick as it rolled from the torn skin. A pair of fleshy wings, and a long matching tail forced their way out of her body. The cracking of shattered bone came again, the bones in her arms and legs shifting. Claws cut through her finger tips, as the screaming grew lower, more monstrous.

"I never wanted this! Why didn't you tell me this was going to happen?"

_You never asked if she was going to return as a human, did you? This is your fault, Jane. You did this to her._

No. No she didn't. The tears finally flooded over and ran freely down her face, her limbs beginning to tremble so much so that it was difficulty for her to remain standing. She shifted her weight so she was leaning into the wall, using it to hold herself up. The cries of pain dimmed to whimpers, and then faded into heavy, gasping breaths.

"M...Mary?" she asked, just barely more than whispering. The mutated woman looked up at the sound of her name, her eyes as black as her aura, as black as the pits in Janes own skull.

"Jane...angel, Jane." came the spine chilling reply, the sound as if two voices were speaking together, one low and one high. She crawled closer, her limbs having shifted to make walking on all fours easier than on two feet. The movements were actually quite fluid, almost graceful. The red haired demon reached her and proceeded to wrap her arms around her waist, that tail lightly moving back and fourth like a cat's would. The wings were pulled hard into her back, trembling like a frightened birds. "Miss you." she crooned into her stomach.

"I'm sorry." she answered, trying not to break down sobbing. She entangled her hands into those crimson locks, not knowing how to comfort the girl. She'd ruined her life, and she couldn't fix it. There was nothing she could- "Ahh!"

With a show of strength that surprised Jane, Mary shifted her grip and threw her half way across the room. She landed hard on her back, and moments later found herself looking up into the grinning face, that demonic woman chuckling, "Did you know that time in Hell is different than here? I was down there for years. I almost forgot who I was. I kept waiting for you to come for me, but you never did."

Her heart hurt as these words pierced to her core. "I'm so sorry." she said again, pleadingly.

Mary shook her head, and placed one clawed hand on Jane's neck, tightening it threateningly, but not completely cutting off her air. "I've spent a lifetime waiting for this." she hissed, and with a swift movement of her free hand, tore into Janes dress, baring a good deal of her flesh to the cool air. Mary cackled darkly, the sound deadly and terrifying, "Eeny, meeny, miny, moe, I wonder where my tail will go?"

Jane gasped, suddenly realizing what her love had in mind. The other took advantage of her prey having her mouth open, and quickly captured it in her own. With a soft sob of regret, the knowledge that the only person she truly cared about had become a monster eating her up inside, Jane returned the kiss.


	28. Animals

Beep...beep...beep...

The soft, continuous, repetitive noise broke through the darkness first, alerting the woman that there was indeed something to be found outside the liquid black of sleep. With a soft groan, Abby opened her eyes, blinking them hard at the brightness of the room. She was hit with a wave of nostalgia, the memory of the last time she'd been in a hospital surfacing.

Jeff. All those people, he'd killed them all. The blood had been everywhere, and he'd done it because he'd been looking for her.

The beeping quickened slightly as her stomach twisted sickeningly, nearly heaving in disgust. As quickly as it came, however, it faded, and she was filled with a soft, fluttering warmth. He'd gone through all that for her.

That bubbling feeling faded, as well, leaving her once again in her emotionless state. Abby exhaled, mentally going over what had just happened. First she felt disdain for all the people that had been slaughtered, and then...happiness?...at the thought that Jeff had come looking for her. It was curious, that the same event could cause two very different reactions. However, the moment had been slightly informative. This was not how it was supposed to be, she knew what she was feeling was more extreme than what normal humans were supposed to experience. But perhaps, it wasn't just the emotions of one person. It was only a theory, but since she felt everything so...so harshly, and everyone appeared to feel harshly at some point or another.

Some people, for example, just smiled when they were happy. They didn't react too strongly to it. But some cried when they were happy, as if the feeling had overwhelmed them. Some got angrier than others, some more saddened. It wasn't something she'd considered before, but it was something to think about. It wasn't unusual to feel one emotion in the extreme like that, but it was to feel all of them. So, perhaps, she was feeling the emotional reaction of more than one person.

Then, going along on that train of thought, that...might explain why different people responded differently to the same stimulant. Their emotional capabilities were different. It wasn't that they were consciously making a choice. This, none of this was conscious or on purpose. It was all a random mess of things in a persons brain, causing them to act. She could not control herself when her emotions flared up. Neither could anyone else. But they didn't know that. They didn't know that because they'd lived with the same emotional input all their lives. If a person's brain was more hostile, the person would act that way, lashing out all the time and not knowing the true pain that they were inflecting because they've never experienced it. The opposite would also be true, that peaceful people didn't completely comprehend the anger and rage from those who's mind had grown that way.

A low sound came from her, her stomach flexing involuntarily as she began to laugh, a different feeling filling her. Something she didn't recognize, something that made her grip the sheets as she shivered there, her eyes closing as she found herself lightheaded. She felt horrid and wonderful all at once, and she found herself not wanting to feel either.

No one had any choice in who they were. They were all controlled by their emotions. They thought they were making their own decisions, but it was just something in their head, a random jumble of organic data that formed with no rhyme or reason.

They were like animals.

All of them. Not just children. Every single person operated on instinct, the urges just became more specific.

Her parents were just as animalistic as those two kids her neighbor babysat. What was it worth then? What made human life any different than, say, the life of a dog? A rat? An insect? What was the difference? What was more, now she was just like them. She was an animal too, and there was nothing she could do about it.

She no longer had control over herself. Just like Jeff couldn't control the need to kill.

Around and around her thoughts went, and she kept coming to that same conclusion. Everyone was like a computer, preprogrammed. Their reactions to everything, to a smile, to a threat, it was all already there. Kick a dog and it yelps. Kick a different dog and it bites. It was the exact same thing.

There was no worth in the humans that surrounded her, nor even worth in herself, because humans were no different than animals...and now, she was, too...

"Oh, you're awake. Miss?"

The low, wet chuckle faded as she looked over to find a nurse at the door. He waisted no time in hurrying into the room, busied himself with checking her iv, making sure all the wires that tied her to the heart monitor were still in order. "How are you feeling, miss? You're not in any pain are you?"

"No." she answered shortly as she watched him work, studying his every move. She wasn't in pain. She felt a horrid pressure against her back, the world was a sickening blur from the drug, but it didn't hurt. In all honesty, she would have preferred the sharpness of pain to the dull numb of morphine. She couldn't even take the IV out or run off to find adrenalin because, obviously, everyone had a pulse and would stop her if she tried.

Where was Jeff? Was he tired of their game? But they couldn't quit yet, she was still alive. Haha, still alive...doing science, and still alive. Feel fantastic, and still alive...

"Good. That's, that's good. Do you need anything? Are you hungry?"

"No." she could kill him. It wouldn't be easy, in her state. But she could. Use the needle in her arm and shove it through his neck or his eye. Maybe find a scalpel or break a syringe to slice into him. He'd fight back, of course. Fight back and call in other people. She would fail. She'd have to get a reliable weapon and get him alone. What would he do? Scream? Attempt to take her life in turn? Cower?

Would this hunk of flesh yelp or bite?

"I...I know you've been through allot. Can't imagine the sick things that monster did to you. I just want you to know, you don't have to talk about it, but if you want to...if you want, or need anything, I'm here for you, okay?"

"Understood."

To what end? What if she wanted his right hand? Would he let her take it? His teeth, his eyes, his heart, his mind.

_You're losing it, Abby_.

"I will never-" she hissed, before quickly cutting herself off.

"What?"

"Nothing. I'm fine." The nurse couldn't hear him, didn't know of the voice that purred through her like hot, poisoned cinnamon.

_Poisoned cinnamon? That's new. Bit poetic, don't you think?_

...leave me alone, Diablo. I will never take that deal of yours.

_Then you will become a creature lower than dear Jeff and little Jane combined._

"My parents are dead. Where will I go once my back is better?"

"Um. Well...I don't..."

"Fine." she looked away from him, her eyes closed in a way that clearly stated that she was done talking. There was silence for several seconds, before she heard him finish checking the medical equipment, and then the retreating footsteps as he left again.

You're a liar. No matter what happens, accepting your help will only make things worse.

_Oh, I'm not that bad._

I disagree.

_I can make your life so much easier, you know. Just say yes. That's all you need to do._

Never.

_We'll see about that...Oh, speaking of, I think there's a little bit of information you might find interesting. Your parents next of kin was your neighbor. Julia, I believe her name is. You wanted to know where you'll be going, right?_

No...no, anywhere but there. There were children there.

_A low chuckle echoed through her mind, Oh, yes. You know exactly what that means, don't you? Kids, innocent, trusting kids. And you. You can't control yourself anymore. I wonder how long it will take for you to snap. My offer is still here, all you need to do is ask..._

She growled darkly and sat up, the motion sickening to her but she didn't care. Her hands went to her hair, entangling into it and pulling hard. You know what? Fuck you. I am never, ever, ever taking your offer, you weak little shit head.

A pause. Silence. Then..._Mind your tongue, human_.

Oh? And what are you going to do to me? Stop my heart? Strike me with lightning? Burn me? Like you could. You're the weakest, most pathetic thing I've ever known. You think I don't realize that? You think it's not blatantly obvious? You're the biggest traitor that ever existed, and for that you have no power. You can't hurt me unless I agree to it, or unless someone else is foolish enough to give up part of themselves.

_I will make you suffer more than you ever imagined._

Do it then. Right now. With no one to trade their own fate for it, do it. I _dare_ you.

_...you will pay for this insolence._

I thought so.

Diablo said noting for quite some time after that.


	29. Fighting

**Hello everyone! First of all, I would like to apologize for my absence, writers block has been getting to me. Trying to get back in to regular posts again. I also apologize for the short chapter, the next one should be longer. **

**Thank you everyone. ^^**

Several days passed, and all the while Abby was forced to watch her own decline. The doctors said that her back had been burned almost completely to the bone, that it would take several weeks before she was well enough to leave. There would always be scars left, her nerves fried in that area so she would never quite feel the same there as before. She was lucky there wasn't any damage to her spine. She was lucky it wasn't infected. She was lucky to have survived it.

Lucky to have gotten away from Jeff.

So,_ so_ lucky.

They didn't understand. None of them knew or cared that her mind was slowly falling apart around her. Her emotions were flaring up almost constantly, her thoughts turning darker and darker no matter how she tried to keep them in line. It was bad enough that she'd resigned herself to forced silence. She would just lay there, letting them do whatever they wanted, holding everything inside her so she wouldn't lash out at them. It wasn't a good plan, but she couldn't think of what else to do, and it was just so hard to concentrate now...

"Abby?"

She blinked, recognizing the voice and mentally recoiling. Julia. Her only reaction was to glance toward the door, meeting her eyes for only a moment before returning her gaze to the ceiling. The children were absent, likely at school. It was probably a school day, there were only two days off in the week. If not, they'd have to be with their parents, which she highly doubted.

"I'm, ah, sorry about what happened to your parents." a crack in her voice, her mother had been best friends, her death must have hurt. Funny, saying something like that to a person whom couldn't feel. At least, as far as she knew. Julia came into view, approaching to hover over the bed. Abby kept her eyes staring straight, fingers clenching the sheets tightly. "I've seen you all over the news, I was starting to think you'd turn up dead...I'm glad you're okay."

Normally she would have smiled, would have reassured her that she was indeed fine, hidden her non existent feelings behind a seemingly light hearted mask. But she couldn't, she couldn't pretend to feel something when she could barely contain her other emotions. It was obvious in the way the other spoke, the way she constantly fidgeted, that her silence was making her uncomfortable.

"I'm not." Abby's own voice was small, buried under the simple beep of the monitor. Julia didn't hear.

"What?"

"I'm not okay. I..." she trailed off, her throat tightening almost painfully. She was experiencing despair. Moments before it had been happiness. Logic strained to make itself known under the twisting chaos now plaguing her. The world blurred and she closed her eyes, an attempt to cut off the flow before it happened, only causing the first tears to drip down into her hair. "I don't wish to be here any more."

"W-what did he do to you?" Julia was whispering now, fingers moving to wipe away the liquid from her face, suddenly too warm. She shivered, pulling back a sob, forcing herself to take deep, even breaths. She'd never cried before, not unless her eyes dried out. Now the tears came and went, mingling with the laughter, the screams, coming and going at random just as everything else.

"They say I might be suffering from post traumatic stress disorder." she finally answered, opening her eyes again, finally feeling calm enough to look at the woman. Shifting, she sat up, flinching at the flare in her back. Now facing Julia fully, she continued, "They've told me that they intend to release me to you once I've recovered. Have you accepted, or shall I make other plans?"

Julia visibly relaxed. This was the Abigail she was used to, the girl that couldn't feel but pretended to. She accepted the explanation despite the fact that it didn't make much sense. Yes, the doctors had voiced concern that she was suffering PTSD, and her fluxuating emotions seemed to support this. However they did not appear to know of her previous disorder, didn't know that she normally didn't feel anything. She'd made no effort to correct them, as it was simply easier for them to think she was suffering from whatever horrors Jeff supposedly did to her. At times, she was struck with heated anger when she thought about recounting the events that had passed, forcing her to make the man out to be a heartless killer. Which, logically, that is exactly what he was in many ways, but that wasn't the point.

The point was that Jeff hadn't forced her into anything she didn't willingly accept, and he did not burn her. But of course, no one would believe that the man she'd dubbed Diablo had appeared in her dreams and done it because someone else asked him to. Which they did(probably Jane), despite his efforts to make it seem a show of power. Even if she'd taken that deal of his, she was sure she'd have been burned anyway.

"Of course I have," the older woman smiled, strained, "I'm not going to let you be kicked out on the streets. After everything that happened? I've been working on getting the guest room cleaned up for you."

"Thank you," Abby pulled her lips back, baring her teeth. Sharp cold stabbed into her chest, and she looked away, head lowered, eyes at the foot of the bed. She clenched her fingers, fighting it away, a shaky breath escaping.

"D-do you need anything?" Julia asked, voice rising a couple octaves.

"Water. Please." came the breathy reply.

She nodded, leaving the room fairly quickly. Abby sat there, eyes closed. She could fight this. Diablo was wrong. She could fight this.

She could...


End file.
